The Weakling
by bluespades
Summary: In struggles of friendships and personal identity, Johanna is introduced into the Hunger Games. The road ahead is long and undoubtedly a tough one, but after surviving so much, Johanna knows she has to at least try. And try she will.
1. Chapter 1: Reaped

**Disclaimer: Same as always, I do not own the Hunger Games.**

**A/N: Johanna's story of her Games. Unspecified year, I might make a poll for some things I can't decide. **

It's reaping day again and I stand in a corner of the roped-off area, scowling. I don't care about keeping track of the number of times I'm entered in the reaping. Why should I care? If I'm chosen, I'm chosen. I only know I'm entered more than ten because of the tesserae I signed up for, but thankfully, my family doesn't have a lot of people. As others amble in, some hurrying as the reaping begins to start, I catch glimpses of their faces, some terrified, anxious, others who have their name in no more than seven are relaxed and nonchalant. Most of them tower over me, even those who are a year or two younger than me. I've never been very tall, so I'll be easily underestimated in the Games, but I figure I could use that to my advantage. All the years, ever since I've turned 12, I decided I had to come up with my own strategy that even my mentor shouldn't know about. I'll be a weakling from reaping to the end of the Games, because I'll win.

"Happy Hunger Games!" Our district escort, Velda, overly decorated in accessories and paint, announces to the multitude below, stirring up the attention of everyone in the crowd. This year, she's wearing a new addition to her outfit - a crown of fake decorative leaves that I suppose is for the trees in District 7. She shows us a video clip about the Games but I don't even bother to glance at it for a second. Instead I run through my strategy, how to react if I'm called, how to act when the silly Capitol people croon over me. I flex my fingers in uneasiness as the video ends. _Relax_, I think. But my thoughts are interrupted by Velda's shrill voice.

"And let us see the boy and the girl who will represent District 7 in the Hunger Games this year!" Really, her high-pitched voice drives me crazy. As she shakes her head sideways, her loose crown of plastic leaves falls slightly off and she flinches slightly while adjusting it back to perfection. She walks daintily over to the girls' names with a squeal of "Ladies first!" and excitedly draws out a slip the moment her fingers touch one. She undoes the seal on the back and practically screams, "Johanna Mason!"

Ok, take it easy. This is where my plan comes in. I remain where I am for as long as possible, trying to look bewildered and scared as the girls around me move away. Hunching my shoulders, I attempt to cry and sob as I shuffle my feet towards the stage. Only when Velda beckons for me to "come up quickly" do I actually walk. She asks for volunteers, and I awkwardly stand with my face to the ground, knowing no one will volunteer. Why would anyone volunteer for Johanna Mason?

I don't really pay attention to the boy's name. I don't know him anyway. He takes the stage and I think he's probably about seventeen. Velda announces, "Let's give it for the tributes of District Seven, Johanna and Cade!" So that's his name. I keep my gaze plastered to the ground as Valda takes my hand and raises it up. People start clapping halfheartedly. Then we shake hands but I wait for him to hold his out first before I extend my trembling one. We are ushered to the Justice Building right away after that and once I'm inside and safe from the cameras, I relax and resume my usual scowl. Someone once told me that I scowl too much and when I'm older I'll be forever scowling and won't be able to smile any more if I wanted to. There's not much reason for me to smile anyway, even if I win the Games. So forget it.

No one comes in to see me as expected and I impatiently wait until the Peacekeepers come in to collect me. Once I set foot out the door, I start crying again and look at Cade out of the corner of my eye. There's no emotion on his face at all and he stands up straight, making me look even smaller. Good. Let them think this way. We board the train and our mentor, Blight, comes in. From what I can remember, he has a rather carefree attitude and from the looks of it he'll be more like driving away potential sponsors than attracting them. He's the only victor left, but at least he's sober and alert, unlike other drunks or morphling addicts I've seen, like the District 12 mentor, for instance. Drunk off his head and so incoherent he's detestable, even on television. But I don't think Blight is going to help much even if his intent is to.

I quit my snivelling and straighten a little, occasionally whimpering. We have our lunch, a marvellous set of meals all laid out for us on a fairly large table, and I do what any scared tribute would do. I don't exactly know how to use the fork and knife I've been provided with, since at home we just eat with our hands. So I dip a tentative finger in the murky light brown soup in front of me and bring it to my mouth cautiously to taste it. A pleasant warmth fills my mouth and I thirst for more. Without looking up once, I lift the bowl to my mouth and down the entire bowl in a couple of seconds. When I set it down and look up for the first time, I find everyone staring at me. Remembering my "weakling" mask, I deliberately slow the rate I chew by quite a lot. There's some small talk and then Blight asks about our strengths and in a small voice I tell him I have none, which is a lie of course. But I don't want him to know anything, absolutely anything about me. That could well ruin my own strategy.

Despite my record timing with the soup, I am still the last to finish. Velda has to rush me to finish so we can watch the reapings in time. I nod, but still eat considerably slow compared to my normal rate, then scurry to the television where everyone is already watching. They have already announced District 1 by the time I get there and I only get to see the two shaking hands. As they turn back to face the crowd, you can't help but catch the intimidating glint in their eyes. The pair from 2 are sturdily built, at least seventeen years old and, well, killers. Districts 3, 4, 5, 6 I don't find so much of a threat. I watch as 7 comes up and Velda calls out "Johanna Mason". I quite like how I appeared. Scared, weak, afraid of the Games. It's actually working. The rest of the districts don't make any sort of impression on me and we retire to our rooms. According to Velda, we'll be reaching the Capitol in about an hour and a half.

My room is large, bigger than my house back in 7 but I have a feeling the Capitol will be much grander. This is, after all, a train. I sit on a chair in a corner of the large room and stare out the window. It's dark outside and occasionally I can make out the lights from another district in the distance. We pass endless plots of land that undoubtedly belong to the Capitol.

I find a tissue-box on a table and take a couple of sheets and stuff them in my pocket save for one. Then I ball that one up, wet it a little with tap water and hold it tightly in my hand. Perfect.

Soon the train starts to slow down and I start to stalk out of my room, but correct my steps to smaller ones in time before anyone sees. We're led out of the train and through the crowds of swarming cameramen and photographers, holding microphones out to us, or fans who have already taken a liking to Cade and frantically yell out his name for his attention. He's clearly trying to play friendly as he blows out kisses to them and smiles, waving. I scamper along behind him, occasionally straightening up fearfully when I hear my name, otherwise making it obvious that I hold a "tear-stained" tissue in my hand. I overhear someone saying, "Wow, she's still crying. Poor girl, she won't last for very long." This comment makes me mad inside, but it's not really surprising with the act I'm putting up.

We reach the Training Centre soon enough. It's what I would call an extremely luxurious prison. We retreat into our rooms, being told that it's almost midnight already, and I change into one of the tens of nightgowns in the drawers. I fish the stack of tissues out of my pocket and leave them on the table. I'll use them tomorrow, though it's not like there's no tissues in this enormous room. I'm just used to not wasting. Then I crawl under the thick white covers and absentmindedly trace the intricate silk pattern embroidered in the hem. Enveloped in the warmth and comfort of the bed, I drift off to sleep thinking about home and imagining the smell of the trees lingering in the air.


	2. Chapter 2: First day of training

**Disclaimer: If I owned the Hunger Games, I would create my own website to publish my stories.  
**

**A/N: Sorry for the late update :)**  
**updates will be much less frequent now as I have schoolwork to do, but hopefully I might be able to manage 1 chapter in 5 days.**

I get up early and wash up. There's an outfit laid out for me and as I dress, I look for the stack of tissues I've placed last night but they're not where I put them. I think someone - probably those wordless servants - came in with my outfit and took those away. Anyway, I don't think I'll be needing tissues today. I walk out to the breakfast area where Velda and Blight are already sitting at. Velda beams at me. "At least _someone_ had the sense to rise early." Looking around, I find Cade is probably still in his room. I slide into my seat and stare longingly at the food.

"Can...can I eat?" I attempt to stutter hesitantly.

Velda laughs pleasantly and replies as she forks up some sausage, "Of course! We're all eating already." As if that isn't obvious. I cross over to the platter of the tremendous heaps of food and help myself. When I get back to the table, I stare at my food wistfully and avoid eye contact, picking up small bites here and there and hoping I look very much intimidated and scared.

"You don't have to pretend, Johanna," says someone from behind.

I whip around and follow Cade with my eyes as he walks heavily to his seat at the table and sits down. Forgetting temporarily when and where I am, I shoot him a furious glare. "Why do you care?"

"Trust me, you don't act like that at all at home. Johanna Mason crying during the reaping? Who would have guessed it," he replies calmly. "Why, your face is so made up of scowls it's a surprise you could even _try_ crying."

I'm about to fire something back at him when Blight interrupts. "Johanna. Before training, which is now, I want you to tell me exactly what your skills are. And tell the truth. Give me a chance to help, ok?"

I consider this for a moment. Grudgingly, I comply. "Well, I can use an axe, and...I think that's all." I shrug. "I could show them I'm a weakling. They'll just overlook me until I'm one of the last few left. And..."

Blight leans in, smiling a little. Come to think of it, it's the first time I've ever seen him smile. "And what?"

"I don't know, I could survive this thing! I _could_!" I'm exasperated. The whole time I'm aware that Cade is listening to our fairly interesting conversation, and it disturbs me and sends me off the edge quite a bit. "Let's discuss it later when _less people_ are here."

Cade narrows his eyes at me but resumes eating without a word. We're rushed off to the elevator by Velda, who insists we get to training on time, and are about to step in when Blight stops us. "Hold on a minute," he says, deep in thought. "Cade first. I need to talk with Johanna alone."

Velda ushers him into the elevator and presses the button. We watch as the magnificent tube shoots downwards and I turn to face Blight. "What?" I'm surprised by how rough I sound. He holds my gaze for a moment, then drops it.

"I agree with you on the whole weakling idea. Seems realistic to me. And you pulled it off well at the reaping. So here's a tip. At training, go for your weaknesses. Show them you're a weakling and avoid axes at all costs. Talk with others from the non-Career districts, show how reliant you are on others. I'll send you down with Velda to emphasise that to the other tributes. And however hard it is for you to keep up this act, never drop it. Promise?"

Without hesitating, I nod eagerly. "Fair. And you'll help me?"

"Yes. Now scoot."

I move into the elevator with Velda and we sink down into the depths of the Training Centre. When I step out, I see almost everyone's here already. They eye me as the number 7 is pinned to my back and I walk nervously into the large gym. I look around, darting my gaze and sizing them up. There's the Careers all bunched together. Somewhere in another corner, Cade and a few others are surveying the array of weapons on their own. Some of the smaller tributes stick to the general location of their bigger district partners. The last corner has a boy and a girl sitting separately, looking no older than 15. I decide on that and move over timidly. As I near them I notice the girl is marked with a number 5 and the boy is 8. The boy looks up to see who it is and goes back to his own work while the girl stares curiously with green eyes very like Cade's that suggest she isn't looking for competition but an ally.

_Ally_, I think. The word runs over and over in my head. It's just another reminder the Games are coming, that 23 deaths await. _Ally._ I bet if I thought little of it I could just kill off my ally if need be, but on second thought I hesitate. Killing someone. Killing my ally. What is it like? How would I be haunted for the rest of my life if I survive? The thought of having to take down someone, especially someone I know, makes me thrust down all thoughts of an ally. Nevertheless, at least I could make small talk with this girl and try to forget ever trace of our friendship when in the arena.

I advance over. "Hi, I'm Johanna, District 7."

"Soraya, and I think you can see my district number," she says without hesitating, and then adds with a nervous laugh, "Unless it's already come off."

We have barely introduced ourselves before a woman called Atala calls us all to the front of the gym while she begins explaining the different stations. "Don't forget the survival skills, apart from weapons. They can make the difference between life and death."

We move off, and I find myself sticking with Soraya. She doesn't really know where to go either, so for a moment we stand like lost sheep in the middle of the spacious room around us. "Survival skills, survival skills..." I snap my fingers. "Knot-tying." The station is empty and the trainer looks bored, glancing wistfully at the more popular stations. He lights up when we walk there and grins widely. I try to avoid having to stare at his grotesque face while he teaches us, which helps take my mind off what they call 'beauty' in the Capitol temporarily.

Soraya and I practice knots until the trainer is satisfied, then he dismisses us and Soraya tugs at my arm. "Johanna, how about making fires? Over there," she says eagerly, pointing at a station where we're just in time to see a large orange flame bloom up and extinguish. "Come on." She half-drags me over there and for the next two hours, we learn to make fires out of nothing but rock and dry twigs. There's another older tribute there, the boy from District 10, and he seems to know a lot about fire-starting which I'm impressed by, although after his tenth attempt at helping us construct a good base of twigs, everything has slipped from my mind. I figure matches are my only option.

I want to try a weapon next, but Soraya prefers sticking to the survival skills, so we depart for the moment. Heading for the knives, I notice some of the Careers are there, showing off their skills, particularly the girl from 2. She stares at me for a moment, her bright blue eyes boring into mine, and lifts her chin intimidatingly. As if to prove her superiority, she holds the knife in her hand by the blade, positions her angle and throws it with perfect aim. I watch in awe as the knife slices through the air on its course to the centre of the bulls-eye. Indifferently, the girl reaches for another knife and it lands right beside the first one. She goes on for five tries and eventually goes to pull her knives out. Then she picks another longer, curved one and throws it like the first five, but it veers off slightly and hits to the left of the bulls-eye. She glares at the knife, then at me, and I could hear her cursing under her breath.

This girl has made me forget what I'm here for. I suddenly remember, then go over to her side and pick out a small, light knife for myself. Blight's words ring in my head, as well as my own. _At training, go for your weaknesses. Show them you're a weakling._ I grin slightly, then quickly mask it with nervousness, biting my lip hard. I take hold of the knife by the blade like I saw the girl do, and aim for the bulls-eye, knowing I'll miss it terribly. I wasn't expecting any more than the 5 point mark, but to my surprise it lands on 9, very nearly crossing the line into the bulls-eye. Quickly, I run over and retrieve it, knowing the girl has stopped throwing and is staring at me. I guess throwing axes around helped me around there, but I grit my teeth in frustration. It intrigues me how when you want something to go your way it turns otherwise, and vice versa. To deliberately show the girl it was just 'beginner's luck', I throw again and try for the 4 point mark with a lot less force than before. Closing my eyes, I hear the _thwack_and slowly open them. Not bad, I hit 3, and the knife is hanging on by its tip on the thick target, wobbling slightly. As I advance over to it, it falls off the board. I can't help grinning and retrieve my knife. Then I return it to the rack of knives beside the girl, who has lost interest in me, and scan the gym looking for an empty station.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice two familiar green eyes watching my every move.

**A/N: That was considerably longer :) hope to update soon!**


	3. Chapter 3: Pretending

**A/N: Training days, the old days of training...sentimentality. :D This one is a little short but I promise the next chapter will be longer.**  
**I just realised I forgot to add in the tribute parade...whoops! If I can I will add that in Chapter 1. Sorry :D**  
**Thanks for reading this, and again, I don't own the Hunger Games or anything in it.**

When they announce lunch, we file out of the gym and I run to Soraya right away. Half the time during training I've been feeling Cade's gaze on me and while it's hard to tell how exactly he feels, I think he's still thinking about what happened in the morning, and the brief hint of my strategy he got in before he left. But I force myself to forget anything that might affect my appearance both physically and mentally, and just make small talk with Soraya. She's good company anyway, but I have to remind myself constantly that I shouldn't become too close to her. I've seen past victors who have watched their friends die, and they've been wrecked beyond repair ever since. If I'm going to survive this, I don't want to be scarred for life. But again, if I survive this, that means the death of Soraya, of Cade, of the boy from 10 who helped us with our fires...of all the other people I see around me right now. With a start I realise that maybe being a victor isn't so good after all. If I had gone around making friends here with every single person in this room (maybe minus the Careers) I would have to live with a scarred conscience and no peace of mind. Not for the first time, my mind drifts off to the typical victor's fate. Hunger Games. Tribute. Victor. Life, and death, is so interesting.

Absorbed in my thoughts, I absentmindedly spoon food from the large buffet onto my plate and some gravy drips down the front of my shirt. I try to smear it away, but some of it still stays on, staining my clothes. Well, I bet they have some supernatural dry-cleaning machine here that could scrub this off in a second. Shouldn't matter to them.

I select my food, being careful not to take too much, and then go and sit in a corner with Soraya. She adjusts her position, giving me a little more space in our small cramped corner. The room does have more than enough space for a few times 24 to lunch in plus the buffet tables, but we squeeze anyway. I guess we aren't that used to spacious rooms just yet. We exchange comments about the food and the inviting yet dark ambience, or otherwise sit in silence, unspoken words hanging in the air that neither of us can bear to say out. _The Games, or rather our deaths, are approaching. _

After lunch we return back to the gym and I try to focus on more survival skills than weapons, but do try to master throwing knives and a couple of other weapons in case I can't pick up any axes. The way I do this and still try to appear weak is quite simple. I try to handle the weapon right, then at the last moment veer off so it lands on the side of the target. It's somewhat satisfying, but I long to let all my power loose and hit the target dead centre.

Throughout training I make acquaintances with the other non-Career tributes, exchanging a few words or smiles here and there, especially when they hit near the target with a relatively new weapon to them. And I grow closer and closer to them however much I try to prevent it. How am I going to cope with that when I watch them die? I've always thought the Games' tragedy is to watch people die, which some part of it is, but it's more of watching your friendships and relationships die away as your loved ones are stolen from you for this brutal sport.

They start to pick us out a couple of days later for our private training sessions. We're called in district order, the boy before the girl, so as the girl from 7 I have to wait a while as people leave the room one by one. Needless to say, I've already gone through exactly what I should do to get a low score. I didn't even have to work it out with Blight. for both of us to know what I'm going to do. I think he actually likes me, since I've already got my strategy planned out for the entire Games. If anything, I've begun to enjoy his company, even if it is discussing how to portray yourself in front of your opponents and later kill them. The idea is rather morbid, but it can't be helped. I just hope I don't have to kill anyone I've taken a liking to.

I wait until they call Johanna Mason and then shuffle into the gym. The stations have been cleared, the weapons put to one side, other materials piled up neatly against the wall. The Gamemakers are sitting in plush chairs at the elevated platform built specially for them, drinking from wine glasses and picking distractedly at the platters of food left out for them. Only one or two are noticing me, and even then it's between sips or mouthfuls. I can't put in words how frustrated and mad I am at them, that they don't even bother to pay any attention to me, that they don't care whether I live or die, and I long to grab an axe and fling it straight at their heads, but of course it's a direct death sentence for me if I really do that.

Already a minute has passed and I'm just standing there, arms itching for the smallish axe on the rack of weapons, yet inclining towards the larger weapons - swords and spears - to show them how weak I am. Wait, I'll throw some knives first. I take one by the blade like what I did before, and aim at the 3 point mark. It hits between 3 and 4 as expected. I try to look disappointed while inside I'm filled with triumph, which is really not an easy thing for me to do. As if vying for another try, I take a smaller knife from the rack and go for the very corner of the target board. I do this for a couple more knives and eventually take a spear and dig it into the ground helplessly. I pretend to topple down with the weight of it, feel my legs sinking to the ground, then drop it and try lifting it up. It's not easy to pretend, but I try for my own sake. Then my fifteen minutes must be up because they tell me to leave. _Good_, I think. Really, the urge to run out is just so great but I force myself to walk instead. Looking from where I am to the exit, I estimate it's probably about...quite a number of metres away. It did strike me that this gym is huge, but now I gape slightly as if seeing it for the first time.

"Johanna Mason? You may leave," a Gamemaker repeats, shocking me out of my new discovery.

Unconsciously, I nod and smile slightly. Then I take my leave.


	4. Chapter 4: Scores and interviews

**A/N: Training scores, preparations, and interviews! The Games will take place next chapter, which will hopefully be uploaded tomorrow or two days later. Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: If I did own the Hunger Games, I would add Johanna's Games in it instead of writing a fic.  
**

Dinner is mostly talk about what we did during our private training sessions. When we're done, Velda pushes us to the television where we await our training scores. The Careers from 1, 2, and 4 get their usual 8 to 10, and the rest get around 3 to 7. Soraya gets a 6, which is considerably well, since she's not a Career. I watch without feeling or anticipation as my score flashes on the screen. 4, it says. 4, 4, 4, 4, 4. The number keeps flashing repeatedly and imprints itself in my head. 4.

Cade gets 8, which he's glad for, and I barely pay attention as the other tributes go by. I think the highest scores were obtained by the pair from 2. Clearly, they're a threat, but I'm taking the risk that they will take out their fiercer enemies before they hunt someone weaker like me. I should be able to escape the bloodbath, but inside, something gnaws at me. However high hopes I have for myself, there's always that chance that I might die in this dreaded arena. At least, if I die, I want Soraya or Cade to win. But I've promised myself I won't die, and I'll survive as well as I can.

* * *

We spend a day with Velda and Blight separately, discussing about our interview strategies. Mine is quite straightforward, to act weak in front of everyone. Velda polishes my social skills and etiquette and Blight helps me with my interview content. I mostly know what to do at the end of the day. We have our three meals on our floor with our district team and not the other tributes, and to be honest, I prefer it this way. Not having to see the smug faces of the Careers is an immense relief.

Well, either way, I'll be seeing them again very soon. And I hope I won't be looking into their cold, heartless Career eyes when I die.

* * *

The next day is wasted to prepare us physically for our interviews. For me, it mainly means getting waxed, having my nails painted and my hair done up nicely to suit the desires of the Capitol people. I bear with my prep team the entire morning, then get transferred to my stylist, who supposedly knows to put me in an outfit that will make me seem young and naive.

My stylist gives me some simple brown clothes to wear, which is either under or part of my interview dress. I like the colour. It reminds me of the trunks of the trees back home, which I suppose is what it's meant to be. Then he tells me to close my eyes as he slips something over my head and adjusts it a little. I'm allowed to open my eyes and "check it out", and I'm forced to smile at the sight of myself in the mirror.

Trees, yes, but it's just a slight hint of it, not overdoing the District 7 theme, and at the same time bringing out my interview angle. I'm in a dress of a curious deep green colour, some artificial leaves sewn on the hem, sleeves and sticking out around my shoulders. The dress is gathered above my waist and falls down in a ripple of green and ochre to my knees. The material is something resembling soft satin, something only the richest back home could afford to buy a square metre of, and it rests upon my slight frame gently. Very simply, I look like a young tree, a sapling, one that hasn't matured enough to blossom yet.

"Thank you," I whisper, suddenly at a loss for words. "It...it's beautiful. I love the material..." I trail off, fingering the soft hem of my sleeve. It slips through my fingers like fine sand and I'm momentarily reminded of my mother, whom I could liken to this soft cloth. And I can say I'm the exact opposite of her. I'm more of a coarser cloth than this.

My stylist smiles wordlessly and fixes a circle of leaves, like the ones sewn on my dress, atop my head. The young sapling. That is what I'm going to show the audience tonight. Will they like me? Will they sponsor me? Who knows. But it's clearly my job to try.

I join Cade and Blight when I'm ready. Believe it or not, I'm actually nervous. It occurs to me that I have changed quite a bit from when I was still in District 7 to now. I'm not that prone to be fierce and scowling any more. Maybe when I appear weak in front of everyone during my interview, it won't be fake.

Blight runs through our interview responses briefly with each of us separately. Then we take the lift down to the ground floor of the Training Centre, where the 24 of us line up in single file, ready to take our seats at the back of the stage. There's some time to mingle before the interviews actually start, and I choose to spend the time with my friend, my possible ally.

"Feeling nervous?" I ask as I near Soraya. She looks up from fiddling with a loose thread on her dress and her bright green eyes are wide and scared, proving my point.

"No, not really...I mean, I...I just...I don't know..." she stammers. "I'm just scared I won't know what to say." She turns her gaze away and I step nearer.

"Relax, really. Don't get too worked up about it." I pause a while before holding out a hand and asking her, "Allies? We'll do better together."

"What do you mean?"

"In the arena. Want to be allies? We'll manage better together. The Games are tomorrow, after all, and we better work this out before it starts."

"Oh." Soraya seems a little taken aback, but she grasps my hand lightly and we shake. "Well, I was going to ask you that actually. Sure, if we can find each other. If we're still alive."

A grin pushes its way onto my face. "You bet we will."

* * *

I stare into the crowd as I sit on the edge of my seat, careful not to crumple the hem of my dress. What do I look like right now? Are my fake emotions clearly visible? I hope so. I don't usually cry on cue, but I tear when I think of sad times, which will do. I did manage it at the reaping after all. The crowd is mostly fixated on the tribute speaking, but once in a while one or two will sweep their gaze onto the other 23 tributes in the semi-darkness.

The tributes go in district order as usual, and I watch as 1, 2, 3, 4 go up for their 3 minutes. Then it's Soraya's turn and I find myself watching with bated breath. The interview host, Caesar Flickerman, is very nice to her and somehow senses her discomfort and nervousness, because he asks her about how she enjoys herself in the Capitol and tries to steer clear of the topic of home. When her buzzer sounds and she turns towards us and walks to her seat, I catch a hint of relief in her eyes.

The boy from 6 finishes too soon and Caesar calls me to come up. I walk up shakily, my dress flowing with my every movement, and clasp Caesar's hand gratefully. Looking down at the numbers of people below, I feel slightly giddy. It's not stage fright. It's not because there's so many people. It's because their faces speak of thirst for blood and entertainment. Entertainment, come on! I feel exactly how I felt in my private training session, wanting to smash their annoying heads open with an axe, wanting to shatter their sickly smiles and screams for our death.

These thoughts render me speechless and all of a sudden I'm back on the stage and realise that Caesar has been repeatedly trying to ask me something. "Johanna, I noticed you appeared really sad during the reaping. Something you feel sentimental about?" He waits for my reply and I stutter, trying to think of something to say. Noticing my discomfort, he bends down and puts his ear to my mouth, pretending to hear my whisper. Then he straightens and breaks into a wide grin. "She says yes!" He turns to me. "Care to share with us?"

I want to smack him right on the face even if he is trying to help me. Maybe it's his makeup and unnatural hair colour that disturbs me. Whatever it is, I can't really place it, so instead I peruse the crowd for Blight. Our eyes meet for a split second and I face Caesar. "I...well, I just don't want to leave my family behind. I want to go home, but I can't. It's not something I can easily explain."

Caesar nods, as if he understands, and continues, "So, how do you feel about being right here in the Capitol? Isn't it your greatest dream? I mean, come on! Who wouldn't give anything for a day's stay in the Capitol?"

_I wouldn't_, I think. _On the contrary, my greatest dream is to be out of this horrible place._But of course I can't tell him that, so I smile sweetly and say, "I like it here, but it would be better if my family were here. Then we could all enjoy the Capitol together." Great, I sound like a little child. But that's who I'm supposed to be and not the real, scowling Johanna Mason, so I let it go.

"Isn't she sweet?" Caesar gushes, and the crowd follows suit. Just then, the buzzer goes off and Caesar yells, "Ladies and gentlemen, tribute of District 7, Johanna Mason!" Everyone applauds and I scramble back to my seat, aware that the cameras are on my leaf-strewn back.

Cade goes up next and I barely pay attention. All I'm thinking about is that it's over. The whole weakling act is over. Blight advised me to drop it right after the interviews, so I could still gain some sponsors when they see my real side. Now what I have to focus on is the Games. The Games...it's tomorrow. Tomorrow, deaths await. Whether mine will be one of them, that is uncertain.

They drive us back and I sit in the same car as Soraya and two other tributes. We take the lift up together, and I'm dropped off at the seventh floor. I'm dead tired and have just enough sense to pull the interview dress off me, which takes some time, before I collapse on my bed and drift off subconsciously.


	5. Chapter 5: Those yet to fall

**A/N: The Games are finally starting! Maybe I'm a sadist, but I've been looking forward to this part :P**  
**Yes, I know I'm weird. But here's the story anyway :) It's a really long one!**

**Disclaimer: When did I ever own anything from the Hunger Games? Never.**

When I awake, a simple outfit is laid out for me to put on, and I change into it. The air is strangely misty, as if bearing the grave truth that some of our lives could be ended in mere hours. I walk out of my room and Blight is waiting for me at the breakfast area. Cade is up already, to my surprise, and drinking something from a mug. Blight motions to a cup sitting on the table. "Yours," he says. I thank him, take the cup and slowly sip the thick, dark liquid. The taste is blissfully sweet and I remember I drank this on the train ride here the day of the reaping. What did Velda say it was? The name comes to me, making me laugh a little and spluttering small droplets of the drink out of my mouth. Hot chocolate. Well, for someone who has never even had more than a bite of chocolate before, _hot_ chocolate seems rather strange.

"Ok, you two," Blight says. "You know what to do, right? Both of you run away from the Cornucopia and locate a water source once the gong sounds. Be wary of any allies you have or may make. Or you may not make it out alive."

"Thanks. Tell Velda we said goodbye," I say.

Blight nods. "Count on it. Well, your stylists are waiting and you've got to go. All the best."

"Thanks," I get out before my voice cracks. Then I walk with my stylist, knowing this might be the last time I'll ever see Cade or Blight ever again. Actually, I'll see Cade when we're in the arena. But once the gong sounds, all hell will break loose and I'll have to run. Technically, Soraya and I are allies, but I'm not really sure how to go about that. Do we meet up somewhere after the bloodbath? Run away together at the Cornucopia? Or stay by ourselves and don't kill each other?

My stylist leads me up to the roof where my tracker is injected under my skin, forming a hard lump that hurts whenever I rub over it. Oh well, I guess it's necessary, to determine whether a tribute lived or died since you can't exactly tell from the camera. I take a glimpse of the roof before the hovercraft blocks it out, and suddenly I'm wishing I spent more time here exploring and found the roof before, so I can have some time to enjoy it. Instead, all I get is just a first glimpse of it before I'm headed to possible death.

We get to the Launch Room made just for me. Above is the arena, whatever it may be. I run through the more common possibilities. A forest, a temperate climate, rocky terrains. Maybe all three put together. I just hope there'll be some trees around. Even though back home all we did was chop them down, I still feel safer when I'm in the midst of them.

I shower and change into my tribute outfit in the Launch Room. This year's tribute outfit is a dark green shirt and long black pants, with a hooded jacket and hiking boots. My stylist tells me the material of the shirt and inside the jacket is made to insulate the wearer, so it'll probably be cold in the arena. He inspects the studs on my boots, clearly for hiking through grassy terrains. The jacket's waterproof, so there'll be some water around. Well, at least there's something to drink, because I don't want to dehydrate to death.

I take long to prepare myself and the moment I'm done, a mechanical voice tells all tributes to be ready for the launch. My stylist leads me to the transparent plastic tube, and for a moment I wonder what will happen if a tribute doesn't step into the tube before launch and an empty tube rises into the arena, but then I catch sight of a minute camera plastered on the ceiling and rule the possibility of a losing a tribute out. We have our trackers anyway and it's nearly impossible to escape the Games, unless you somehow smash that camera and rip your tracker out. _And_evade all the Peacekeepers they'll send your way.

There's a countdown from 10 and the tube starts to rise, sending me into the arena. The cylinder rises, leaving me right in the open air on my metal plate. It's too much to take in at once, and to make it worse, Claudius Templesmith announces the start of the Games right then.

I force myself to get my bearings right, and take in the golden Cornucopia, the tributes all equidistant from it, and the forest of familiar trees - I just can't place a name to them - circling us. The air is cool, below average room temperature, and already I begin to shiver a little. In the forests I catch the reflective glint of water against mild sunlight, and...what is that I see on the trees? The whitish coat on the edges. Snow. Just then the names of the trees strike me, and unconsciously I give a start. Cedars and pine trees, that makes up the most part of the forest. I pull my jacket tighter over my body and zip up the front as much as I dare. It's going to be cold.

I search through all the supplies lying a distance from the Cornucopia with my eyes, and decide I'll settle for a small black backpack behind me. Behind, it's forest as well. Nothing but trees and lakes. I position myself ready to sprint, knowing the minute must be up, and await the gong.

It goes off in a matter of seconds, and my frenzied legs carry me to the backpack and straight into the forest, ignoring all the sounds of clashing metal and screams behind me. I keep running, sprinting, until I can say I'm safe and slow to a jog. Water, that's what I want. A water source. I jog at a moderate pace, keeping an eye out for one of those lakes I saw while on my plate, but when I find none and it's nearly afternoon, I decide I've placed enough distance between myself and the rest, and look out for a place to settle and fork through my supplies. Most of the trees are cedars and pine, and I find none that I could climb. But after walking about a kilometre in search of a hiding place, I find shelves of rocks here and there around a large lake, like the typical type of temperate forests you would find. A lake. Water. I've found my water source, as well as a hiding place.

The ground is covered in cow grass, erasing any of my tracks. I scout around the rocks warily, ready to run at the slightest hint of a mutt or another tribute or something, but eventually I find nothing here. I could be mistaken though; it's possible the Gamemakers have hidden a trap here, ready to be unleashed at any moment when the Games gets boring.

I pick a rock crevice and squeeze inside, then block out the entrance with other stray pieces of rock I find lying around. It's pretty spacious, with space for me to sit cross-legged. There are small holes in the rocks where light gets through, but as long as I don't move I doubt anyone will spot me. When I'm settled, I rearrange the rocks I took in such a formation that the bottom half of the entrance is blocked permanently but the upper half I can open and cover with two medium-sized rocks, allowing me an easy escape if need be. I'm on the ground, which isn't ideal, but I can't say there are too many trees that support climbing around here.

Something glinting on the ground catches my attention. It's a rock of some sort. I pick it up and it pricks my skin, making me nearly cry out and drop it. I try again, more carefully this time, and examine it closely. Where have I seen this before? In my mind's eye, I vaguely remember seeing a rock of this sort before. It can cut very well, and was used as knives a long time ago. What is its name? I finger the sharp edges of the rock, trying to recall, and the name comes to me. Obsidian. Sharp as a knife. I think the Gamemakers intentionally put it here, since this forested area is not where obsidian would normally be found. Well, at least that's what I remember. I slide the obsidian into my jacket pocket, in my reach in case I need some self-defense. It will do for my lack of weapons.

When I'm satisfied with everything, I open my backpack and sort the stuff out. Jackpot. There's a two-litre full bottle of water, iodine, a box of matches, rope, a packet of dried fruits, a small empty cloth pouch, a first-aid kit and even a large sheet of plastic. It seems the Gamemakers have packed every single thing in here. I knew this was the right pack to go for, and I suppress a smile though there's no one here to see it.

I start to place everything back in my backpack, but as I put the iodine in, it hits something hard. I hold the backpack upside down and something falls out. A flashlight. How did I miss this? Anyway, a flashlight could either be helpful or bring trouble. Depends where and when it's used.

When everything's safely in my pack, I strap it onto my back and squat on the ground. Judging by the sun's rays shining into my rock fortress, it's mid-afternoon.  
The other tributes will probably be either safely hiding or prowling around by now. The Careers will be at the Cornucopia, sorting things out or finishing off any last-minute stealer.

A couple of minutes pass before a cannon boom sounds throughout the arena, making me clap my hands over my ears from the deafening sound. It goes on for 9 times. Who's dead? There's 15 left, and the six Careers are definitely among them. Is Soraya still out there or is she...Soraya. And right away a familiar sense of dread engulfs me.

_"Sure, if we can find each other. And if we're still alive,"_ she said, just yesterday, when I asked her for an alliance. And I replied with a grin, _"You bet we will."_ I haven't kept my word, obviously. All I've done for her since the start of the Games was to leave her alone and flee the other tributes. I wondered how to go about this alliance, but now in the actual Games I realise, for the first time, the sorrow of not knowing whether someone's dead or alive, and knowing you did nothing to help them. It's like a hanging question, one that will haunt you for a lifetime.

I seem to have lost my identity. The Games has changed it all. Whether for the better or worse, I can't tell yet. But I want my old self back. This new being I've been replaced with doesn't seem real at all. It's as if I'm still the weakling I pretended to be.

The sky turns dark gradually as I sit and think about things. I realise I had neither lunch nor dinner today, but seeing I have only a pack of dried fruit and it's not likely for me to get any sponsor gifts, I decide to forego my meals for today. Tomorrow I'll see if there's any food around in this forest. I could eat pine, but I still have to find some other food, maybe berries or something. Or fish. Does this lake have any? I contemplate going out to have a look, but it's this time of evening when everything's in between day and night and you can't exactly see that well, so I push the urge down and tell myself to wait till morning.

It gets dark and I peek through the chinks of the rocks I'm encased in. I don't think anyone else is here yet. The entire area here is quiet and almost peaceful. The idea occurs to me that someone could just discover me here in the night and kill me. It scares me, and I think of a way out, an alarm of some sort since I'm alone. What do I have to work with? Cedar, pine, water, and the stuff in my pack. Oh, and my obsidian. I search the ground for more pieces of it, but it's getting dark, to my dismay. I didn't see any more of it here, but there might be some in the other shelves of rock. Wait, my flashlight! I'm about to switch it on when I realise that in this darkness, a flashlight in a hole of rocks will literally light it up like a lantern and will definitely be calling for trouble. Unless there's another way to use it...

I dig out my cloth pouch. It's just the right size to cup around the mouth of the flashlight, and it's dark in colour, so it'll do to hide the light. I switch the flashlight on and keep it as low to the ground as possible, crouching around it, hoping the light won't show. The beam finds another two smaller pieces of the obsidian, and I slide them into my pocket as well. The air is even colder now that it's night and I'm glad I zipped my jacket before, because I'm shivering more than in the day. I'm sure the temperature has dropped so much there'll be snow tomorrow. In Seven, there was winter, and we would wrap ourselves in triple layers of thick cloths and babies in four or five. It never was this cold back home anyway. Winter was just another subtle cold season where the dew would turn to ice, but it wouldn't snow. At least not in my lifetime.

At last I'm at rest that I won't lie on some obsidian in the night. I go back to devising my alarm system, but can't find anything to use. Finally I just leave it. It's hard to be quiet on the grass anyway, and I'm betting whoever would kill me would probably be the Careers or the larger tributes, and therefore wouldn't be that silent-footed.

The sky has gone pitch black by the time the anthem plays and the faces of the dead tributes are shown. I hold my breath as I watch, hoping neither Soraya nor Cade has died. They show the boys from 3 and 5, both from 6, the girls from 8, 10 and 11, and both from 12. I watch without feeling as I did the training scores, and I'm glad I didn't really know any of them. But I know somewhere their families must be weeping, and that drunken mentor from 12 must be far from sober now. I can't say I'm sad they're dead, because, after all, this is what a victor has to endure. But I do feel the gnawing feeling that they were once alive, just yesterday, just this morning, that they were here in being, and now their short lives were ended. They could never be brought back again no matter how hard you try. They're gone forever.

It just takes one swift movement to finish someone off fast. A little voice in the back of my head says, "Johanna, remember that you'll have to do it at least once during these Games if you want to return home." But I argue silently with that voice, "I could let the Gamemakers finish the last one off."

"But don't forget you are a tribute as well, just as vulnerable, just as easily killed..." The voice flits away, leaving me doubting myself and trying to get my discernment right. And maybe I do empathise with the drunken victor from 12. Haymitch, I think his name is. His Games was the 2nd Quarter Quell where he was up against 47 others instead of 23. I never watched the whole thing, but I've watched enough snippets of it to know roughly what was going on. Once I saw how he won, but only very brief, then the television went black and it switched to Caesar Flickerman because I think the Capitol didn't want to show that part. They probably overshot a little into the ending. Nevertheless, it was up there for all to see, even if only for a few seconds, but I saw it. He'd taken advantage of the force field that surrounds the arena to direct an axe to the District 1 girl's head. He hadn't really _killed_ her, she'd thrown the axe at him while he was at the edge of that drop-down where the force field was, and it fell into the force field and went in her head when it returned. But Haymitch's family was all dead soon after, supposedly killed by the Capitol.

Why am I thinking these things when I'm in the arena itself? Where the anxiety and deaths hang over us? I rid my mind of the thoughts and lie down, curling up to fit the space of the rocks, using my bulky pack as a pillow. On second thought, I take a piece of obsidian out of my pocket and put it in a small corner of the rocks. Just in case.


	6. Chapter 6: Danger and a death

**A/N: The week has been busy, but I've managed 3 chapters, which I'm glad about. I hope to update very soon but seeing exams will be coming, I might not come on...but that's only a might.  
I've been nice and giving the past chapters a definite ending, but now here's a cliffhanger...*evil smirk* :D  
Thanks again to all reviewers, story favourites and followers! You really make my day :)**

**Disclaimer: Of course I don't own the Hunger Games.**

It's still dark when I'm jolted awake from my sleep by a sharp pain on my hand. I've rolled over to my side in my sleep, and my head hurts from the hard contents of the backpack I used as a pillow. Sitting up groggily, I pull my hand towards my face since I can't see anything in the dark right now, and I smell blood. Gingerly prodding the torn flesh on my hand, I glare at the corner in the rocks where I placed the obsidian last night.

"Your fault," I mutter. "Your fault I got cut so early in the Games."

My throat feels dry when I speak, so I take a sip of water to clear the phlegm, realising exactly how starving and parched I am. My lips are cracked and bleeding both from the cold and lack of water. I hadn't eaten anything yesterday since I entered the arena, and I didn't drink anything as well. The rich sweet taste of the hot chocolate has completely melted away, leaving a strange empty feeling in my dry mouth. I need something to fill my empty stomach. I'll go look for food when it gets bright and hope all will go well...

It's dawn, and the sky is streaked with a hue of orange and pink. It's beauty in the arena. The air here is still cool but warmer than last night, and birdsong fills the forest air. I press my face to a hole in the ceiling and watch as the sky slowly lightens. Momentarily, I'm reminded of the times I spent with my mother, out in the meadows surrounding our forests in the early morning, watching the sun rise and light up the electric blue sky. The memories are painful, and I banish them from my head. When it's bright enough, I get a look at my cut and it's just some torn skin, nothing much. It'll heal in a few days.

I arm myself with one of the obsidian from my pocket, sling my pack onto my shoulders and peek out of the holes to make sure no one's there. Then I cautiously lift the rocks off and step out of my fortress for the first time since I found refuge here.

When I'm out, I replace the rocks back on top so no one will ever know I was there. The third shard of obsidian still remains inside, but since I have two more with me, I leave that there. It should still be there when I return. If it isn't, well, then I better be careful around here.

I keep up a fast pace as I move from my rocks to the lake, constantly glancing around and clutching my obsidian shard tightly as a precaution. As I near the water body, I notice mist swirling around and above it, and the air has a refreshing coolness to it. I hadn't really had a good look at it when I ran past yesterday, but now I see it clearly. It's magical and has a certain luring to it. I step closer to the water, looking for fish or any edible water creature, but the water is still without any sign of life. Nothing at all. Looks like I'll have to depend on plants for my food.

A cannon blast makes me jump, a grave reminder that I'm still in the Games, still vulnerable to danger. This thought sends me scurrying back to the safety of the trees, away from the lake. Who was that? I keep thinking of Soraya. Soraya, whom I failed by running away when we shook on an alliance. I know if she's dead, my conscience will weigh me down for the rest of my life. Surely she's alive? I must find her. We're allies after all, or has the arena changed all that?

I decide to explore this area, however risky it may be. But the forest around here all looks the same. I need a marker. It seems the Gamemakers are pretty ignorant about forests as they have put all sorts of bushes and trees around here, some of which form the oddest mix of species in one forest. The familiar smell of mint leads me to a bush full of it. I gather the leaves and stuff them in the cloth pouch in my pack. Then I set out, scattering a few leaves on the ground every few metres or so. My trek leads me through the same forest. Everywhere I move I see cedars and pine. Just cedars and pine and an occasional lake. The landscape never changes. It starts to bore me after a while. Haven't the Gamemakers at least got one part of the arena that is _not_ forest?

About an hour has passed of walking when I come across some scattered twigs on the ground, looking like they were gathered and then dispersed in a hurry. The first thought that comes to my mind is that some bird gathered it for their nest, but it doesn't seem like it. No, it looks more like a human had done all this. And then I see it. The crimson splotches and smears on the ground, some on the twigs, the blood smear of something metal and sharp left behind, probably a weapon. I shudder. Someone died here. It's probably the cannon blast I heard just now. The blood's still fresh and red, staining the grass and some of the twigs. I take some of the non-bloodied twigs, seeing I might need them some way or other, and move on. I have absolutely no clue of Soraya's whereabouts. And I'm just guessing she's still alive.

Just then, a thought strikes me and I stare at the twigs I'm about to stuff into my pack. The oddly familiar twig formation that was half-dismantled just now. A memory surfaces in my brain, the very first day of training, when Soraya and I made fires with that District 10 boy. The one who showed me how to build the base of twigs. Isn't it the same base formation as the one I just picked twigs off? The pieces begin to click. Cold. Warmth. Fire. Twigs. So therefore that means...he's dead.

The rustling of grass startles me and I stop dead in my tracks, one hand full of mint leaves, the other tightening its grip around the blunter part of the obsidian. Slowly I turn my head in the direction of the sound, which I estimate is about ten to twenty metres away. That's very near. Near enough for even an amateur to throw a knife, or shoot an arrow, or even throw a spear. In the arena, a tribute in close range means danger.

At first I see no one, but after a second something moves a little, hidden by the shrubs. Someone's there. Maybe whoever it is killed the District 10 boy as well and is just hanging around, waiting for another easy kill. I should run, but it will be futile if the person has a long-distance weapon. Whoever's there can definitely see me, though I can't see them, but after this long wait it's unlikely to be a Career. Careers don't wait. They just zoom in on their kill.

The obsidian wavers in my hand. _Kill or be killed. Don't hesitate_, a voice says in my head. _It's no threat_. I tighten my grip on the rock even more until my knuckles turn white. Then, when I've mustered the courage to go and see who it is, I walk with steady steps to the shrub, my feet making almost no sound at all, and look behind it.


	7. Chapter 7: No better than a Career

**A/N: I know everyone was waiting for this after the cliffhanger last chapter. Cliffhangers are just so fun to write :D**  
**And sorry for the day's wait, I had this more or less completed yesterday but I couldn't use the computer.**  
**Ok, no cliffhanger this chapter, enjoy the story!**

**Disclaimer: I wouldn't have to write a disclaimer if I owned the Hunger Games.**

The first thing that greets me when I peer behind the shrub is a pair of bright green eyes. Scared, terrified, but still bright as always. She scrambles backwards instinctively, scrabbling to get up from her squatting position, when she catches sight of me and relaxes. I walk up to her, elated that she's safe, and break into a grin. It's my ally, safe here, though not in very good shape. She gets up and I notice her jacket is slightly wet. Fortunately it's waterproof.

Her voice, though retaining some of her original terror, comes out as clear and melodic as I heard her the first time. Only now it's going way too fast. "Johanna. I was going to look for you, and nearly ran into District 1. They probably split up their alliance for now and are going in pairs hunting for victims. I had to hide here since I couldn't run. I watched them kill him. The boy from 10. Are they still here? Please tell me they're gone, please!"

"I don't know, but I didn't see them on my way here. They're possibly gone the way they came. Are you moving around or do you have somewhere definite to stay?" To my surprise, my voice is as rushed as Soraya's when it comes out, though I didn't intend it to be.

Soraya indicates her pack. "No, I'm moving around. I haven't got much though."

"Well, come on. I've found somewhere to rest." I lead her back to my hideout, following the mint scent and checking to see where I scattered the leaves, and by the time we get back it's past noon. I show her in my rocks, which can house both of us if we squeeze. It's not terribly comfortable, but since we each don't have that much bulk it'll do for a short stay. Since this is the Games, I'm guessing we'll have to move camp in a few days' time when this part of the arena becomes dangerous.

We each lay out what we have. Soraya has water, packets of food, iodine, a thick bunch of cloths and wire, which she claims isn't much. She doesn't have a weapon, so I hand her one of the obsidian and take the other. The third, which is fortunately still in its place, we'll keep in here in case of any emergency. Soraya is pretty familiar with the obsidian. It's a rather large piece, and she suggests we sharpen it.

"How?" I ask. Sharpening axes, yes, but rocks? I haven't done anything like this before.

"Just like you would a knife..." Soraya searches the ground and comes up with a rock. Since she offers to sharpen all three shards, I decide to go and fill our bottles. A short trip to the lake wouldn't be too dangerous.

It's still the same around here, no sign of disturbance or anyone else. I hope we won't run into anyone around here. Upon reaching the lake, I scoop the water up full. The water is crystal clear. A little too clear. I have a feeling something's amiss. Though the Gamemakers prefer a fight to silent deaths from poisoned water, I better make sure. I hold one bottle by the neck, rotating my wrist in small circles, watching the crystalline water swirl around inside. I don't know what I'm waiting for. I should add iodine now. I get it out of my pocket and add a measured amount to each bottle. Then I wait.

All the time I can't help thinking of the Games. Now that I'm in it, I know what all the victors felt like, being forced to kill just for others to watch. Even if you're a Career, I guess the general feeling must be the same as well. I wonder how they're doing. Their alliance must be at its strongest now, there are at least six of them and who knows which other tributes they've taken for their later use and manipulation. And according to Soraya, they're nowhere near dead. They wouldn't be. Everything and everyone at the Cornucopia was all at their mercy.

The cool breeze brushes stray strands of my hair against my cheeks. Oh, the times when I was much younger, when I used to sit just like this in the meadow, surrounded by all the tiny colourful flowers, when I would run with the wind blowing against my face, when I had a reason to be happy. There were those days when you had nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. You were content with everything you had, and took them for granted. Then you crossed the line into being aware of things, and came to know suffering and death. My mother said children in Seven grow up too fast, and I agree. I wish I could re-spend my childhood years as someone happier, without having to worry of the Games, of watching others get killed and being killed yourself if you broke any rules. It's like forcing an innocent child to watch all the blood and suffering, and eventually being forced to kill others in the Games. Killing. All this thoughts about killing make me whip my head around constantly, though I know there's no one here.

After the light of the sky changes slightly, I hurry back to the rocks, water swishing vigourously in the plastic bottles with my every step. I'm thirsty and I want to unscrew the cap and gulp down everything. That brings me back to thinking of the water. Has the iodine cleansed everything yet? Or have the Gamemakers specially made this water to withstand all chemicals and poison the thirsty one who drinks it? That could be me. I need someone to test the water first, see if it's ok. As I scrabble into the rocks, I hand a bottle to Soraya. "Here, your water."

She looks up from her work and I notice the rock she used to sharpen the obsidian is blunt and there are obsidian pieces and powder, presumably from the rock, on the grass. Two of the obsidian pieces are in a roughly cut knife-like shape, like a longish triangle and a rectangle attached at its base. It's not very proportionate, the handle being much longer than the blade and rather wide, but with just a rock and not much time it's quite amazing. The third shard is in front of her, half cut.

"Pass me your rope," she orders, and I comply. I watch as she coils rope around the handle of each completed shard and keeps it in place with a dead knot to prevent the shard from cutting our hands. The rope isn't very thick, which will do. Then she asks for water, and hastily pushes the half-finished obsidian away. I hand the water to her, feeling something well up inside of me. Should I stop her? Now? _Too late_, I think as she takes a sip without question. If the water is bad, it'll probably take effect now. I don't know what I'm expecting, maybe she'll drop dead or choke or convulse or something. But nothing happens.

"What?" Soraya looks at me expectantly.

"What?" I return.

"I don't know, you were staring at me like I was an alien or something."

"Oh." I drop my gaze and hear her put the bottle on the ground. She resumes cutting. I look at her work, and notice for the first time that her hands have cuts all over and are splotched with blood. I gasp involuntarily, and ask, "What happened to your hands?"

"I'm cutting obsidian with just a rock and my bare hands. What do you think, brainless?" She tries to sound sarcastic, but I catch her suppressing a grin.

Her comment makes me smile, and under the smile, guilt. "Oh yes, I forgot. I'm going to find us some food now." Without waiting for her reply, I sling my pack on and take an obsidian shard. It's just like a knife now. "Thanks, Soraya. For cutting all this. And for..." _For being the guinea pig and drinking the water though you didn't know it._

"For what, brainless?" This time she doesn't hide her smile.

"Nothing. Well, I'm off." The words come out of my mouth in a jumble and I climb out of the rocks. "See you."

The cold air greets me again once I climb out and I pull up the zipper on my jacket even more. I debate getting my hood on, but decide against it since it'll be more of blinders than help. I forgot to ask Soraya why her jacket was wet when we found each other. I'll keep that in mind to ask her when I'm back. Now, to the mint leaves. I collect more of them and stuff them in the pouch, save for a few which I take small bites of on the way. I like mint.

I wanted to get food for us, yes, but the real reason why I'm out here is because I can't bear to sit with Soraya and keep on owing her, and instead of making up for everything I gave her water which could have been poisoned. I left the water behind with her, but I figure I can hold out for a while longer. After all, I drank some this morning already.

What have I become? The question gnaws at me throughout my entire walk. What has the Games turned me into? I'm the one benefiting most from our alliance and taking what Soraya's done. And in return, I took advantage of her trust. The only words I can use to describe the remorse I'm feeling now are _sheer guilt_. I'm no better than a Career.

The wind blows against my face like it did when I was sitting by the lake, only this time it's no longer reminiscing my childhood days with me. This time, with each chilly lash against my cheeks, it seems to keep whispering, _Johanna, you have failed. _


	8. Chapter 8: Failed

**A/N: Last update before exams starts. Maybe I'll upload double chapters after that to celebrate :D**  
**Thanks so much to Ecargnotrom for reviewing repeatedly :)**

**Disclaimer: I never wrote the Hunger Games.  
**

_Johanna, you have failed._

The words swarm around in my mind, plaguing me, making me want to yell out loud for them to go away. They do, after a few hours of aimless wandering and gathering of various medicinal and edible plants, and eventually dissipate into the air behind me. It stays peaceful like this for half an hour before two cannon blasts, ten seconds apart, bring the words back to my mind. _Johanna, you have failed._ They're right. I have failed. I've failed to keep everyone alive. I haven't been able to admit that very soon, it will be me who will take their lives, but maybe that's because I know I will have to do it either way. I can't escape having to kill. And as much as I wouldn't want to say it, I will very likely kill because I _want_ to, not because I have to. Again, the realisation hits that I'm no better than a Career.

Two cannons. Who could that be? Soraya? Cade? I better be going back now. I think I know the way back...I wander around for another two hours or so, or was it minutes? Days? I've lost track of time. I've lost track of who I am. But soon my senses snap back and I spot the strange swirling mists over the lake in the distance. I stumble back there, sweat dripping down my face and into my eyes even though it's still as cool as it was the first day. Overhead, it's sunset and the same orange and pink streaks crowd the sky, cleverly painted as if from an artist's brush, like the colourful scales on a fish. I glance wistfully at the lake, and all of a sudden surprise myself by taking off at top speed towards it. My pack bangs against my back as I sprint with sheer rashness. The four haunting words have fled the wind and now it whispers me on. _Go on_, it says. _Go. Run. _

The lake draws nearer with every ten metres I cover. Eventually I stop abruptly and feel my pack slam hard against my back. It's not because I'm tired. I'm never tired. It's because I see someone. The scared tribute boy, jacket pulled tight around his bone-thin arms, with nothing but a small stale loaf of bread. Alone. The familiar eyes turn towards me, pupils dilated in fear, limbs frozen, about to get up from the ground and run off. But he's too late.

It's the boy from 8. The one I saw with Soraya on the first day of training. He had turned towards me with resentful eyes that day, unwilling to speak. And now he's scared of me. Oh, what the Games does to people.

I react before I can think. Before I know it, the obsidian has left my hand and finds its target in the boy's chest. When he falls to the ground, I don't know what to do. I don't know what I've done. I go over, my confidence level below zero, and stoop down to retrieve my obsidian. He's breathing heavily, blood trickling out from his chest where he was hit. Then his movements stop altogether and the cannon fires. At the sight of this boy lying so helplessly on the grass, I feel a little bad, but shrug it off and run towards our rocks. The emotions will come later. It's done already, anyway, and I can't undo it.

But halfway I stop and look at my hands and my knife. Full of blood. I run to the lake to wash it off, and watching the blood float into the water and fade away, it upsets me. The blood flows away, but my guilty conscience does not. What have I become?

I enter the rocks when the sun has dipped below the horizon and the sky is the same electric blue as it is at home. Soraya pounces on me right away, wanting to know where I went and why I was gone so long. But I'm at a loss for words. All I do is just shake my head and ease myself down on the ground. I pass her the plants I gathered without any explanation, and sit with my head in my hands.

"Johanna? Is there something wrong?"

I look up to find the same bright green eyes looking into my dark ones. Bright green eyes that could have been gone this morning if the water was bad. "No, I just..."

"Well, eat something." She extends her packet of food and I take some of the biscuits inside.

"I...I'm sorry."

"For what, brainless?" She attempts to laugh and lighten the heavy feeling, but I just manage a weak smile.

"I...I don't know. Thanks anyway." I lie down and curl up. "Wake me when it's the anthem, ok?"

"Sure." Comforted by her smile, I close my eyes and let myself forget the events of the day. Might as well get some rest.

* * *

The loud blare of the anthem wakes me more efficiently than Soraya, and I sit up bolt upright, pressing my eye to an adequately large gap in the ceiling. The girl from 4 comes up first, which really surprises me. I can't say I was expecting a Career so soon. Then it's the boy from 8, whom I killed, then the girl from 9 and the boy from 10. Something inside me stirs when I look at the boys' faces. Maybe it's the realisation that they're gone, never to be back. It makes it worse I took notice of them before, that they have some place in my mind, however small that place might be. And I feel especially bad when the boy from 8 comes up. Long after the anthem is over, his face is burned into my mind, the scared look that greeted me when I saw him, the helplessness when he lay dead on the ground.

Right after the last cadence of the awful anthem is played, I lie back down, staring at the cold, hard rock surrounding us. I reach out a finger and scrape at the rock. I'm glad for the hood on my jacket as I pull it over my head. _Johanna, you have failed._ The whispers come back to haunt me again.

My sleep is restless and disturbed. At some time dead people that I knew before come back to life and they keep whispering my name over and over again, never pausing for breath, never tiring. It just goes on and on. _JohannaJohannaJohannaJohanna..._

I wake with a start and nearly hit my head on the rocks. In the dim light, I can make out Soraya hunched in a corner of the rocks, cupping my flashlight in her palm so the light won't show outside. I can hear the soft patter of droplets on a smooth surface, and look up to see the plastic stretched over my head like a roof, somehow tied to the rocks with rope. It's dark outside, and thunder rumbles. Some rain splashes onto my jacket from the holes in the wall of the rocks. The air is even colder now that it's raining.

"What time is it?"

Soraya looks up. "Around 10 in the morning. You were really knocked out, and it started raining a few hours after you slept."

I notice she looks tired. Probably didn't sleep yet. "You sleep now. I'll keep watch."

"Sure, brainless. Your breakfast is on your backpack." She switches the flashlight off and places it on the ground. Then she curls up in the same position as me, and I watch her drift off to sleep.

I switch the flashlight on and cup it in my hands like I saw Soraya do. A handful of mint leaves, some nuts and two biscuits lie on my pack, neatly arranged. My bottle of water, still full, sits beside it. I force down the bitter memory as I open the cap and take small sips of the water. Then I indulge in the food and a couple more mint leaves from my pouch. Who knows how long this rain will last, but hopefully it'll go down enough for us to get out and find more food and refill our bottles.

I watch Soraya as she sleeps, so peaceful, as if she weren't in the Games. Her look is relaxed and the creases on her face are non-existent. She doesn't move much; apart from the gentle rise and fall of her chest, she's so calm and relaxed it would be hard for one to believe she was in an arena full of children who are hunting her down. The only clue that gives that fact away is the scars, big and small, all lengths, running randomly on her abused hands.

The rhythmic drumming of the rain slowly dwindles to a light drizzle. I have nothing to do and just sit there, watching Soraya sleep, trying my best not to recall what I've done these past 24 hours. After a while, I start to whistle a tune I last sang years ago. There was the time when I was young, barely past four, and my mother would sing these songs to me. Her voice is as I remember it, clear and melodic, rising and falling with the words of the songs. I can still remember the times she sang, but I have to admit music has slipped my mind after her death all those years ago.

The tune flows with the drizzle. I look up at the clear plastic above my head, and watch the pools of water gather above. The rainwater should be clean. At least we'll have something to drink. I stuff some mint leaves in my mouth, relishing the blissfully minty taste. Then I pick up my obsidian knife from the ground and trace the tip on the surface of my skin. Bad choice. Almost at once, the invisible blood it is still coated in flows out into my hands. Innocent blood.

I press the sharp tip into my forearm, cutting a long, shallow gash on it. Now the tip is coated in my blood and though I don't really know why I just did that, at least the guilt is momentarily quenched. At least I have to suffer as well. At least I paid for my actions, however little I did.

The rain stops.


	9. Chapter 9: No forest

**A/N: Maybe it's not the last chapter before exams...  
Thanks for waiting! It's a little short but well, I've posted both this chapter and the next at one go, since it only seems appropriate to end it here and not cram everything into one chapter.**  
**Thanks Ecargnotrom for faithfully reviewing the past few chapters ;D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.  
**

The sleeping form beside me stirs after a while and sits up. The creases are implanted in her face again, a vast difference from her younger self when she was sleeping, so relaxed and peaceful. "Has the rain stopped yet?"

"Yeah. There's a large puddle of water above our heads right now. Thankfully there aren't a lot of holes in the rock and the plastic's large, but we still better do something about that. Our jackets are waterproof too, but you never know."

Something crosses her eyes when I mention about our jackets being waterproof, but she doesn't comment on that. Instead, she looks up at the clear water threatening to fall on us any moment, then flashes me a smile. "Time to drink more, brainless."

We quickly finish up both bottles of water and have a biscuit for dinner. I think it's probably about five or six in the evening now, but the sky is unusually bright, with no trace of clouds at all. How fast the dark clouds have cleared. I wonder what the rain was for. Maybe it was to spur us on to create some action, since it's been uneventful for the Gamemakers today. Tomorrow, there'll definitely be some action. Forced action.

Both of us try to take the plastic down without it spilling. We manage eventually, but have to across the entire floor to keep the water from spilling out. Taking turns, we fill our bottles and treat the water just to be safe, and the residue is dripped on the grass outside. The rainwater is refreshing and cool, just like how the air feels, especially after it rained.

Talk about water. "Why was it wet...your jacket?" I ask Soraya.

"Wet?"

"You know, yesterday when I found you, your jacket was wet."

A spark of familiarity lights up her eyes and is gone as fast as it came. "What? No it wasn't! You sure you saw it?"

She doesn't even add the "brainless" tag, which plus other giveaways make me inclined to think she's lying. What could it be from? For a moment I think it's rain, but what's there to be so secretive about rain? Maybe she fell into a lake and is too embarrassed to admit it? I don't think that's the case though. Or maybe she wanted to test out how waterproof the jacket was? No, nothing to hide about that. Well, I'll find out sooner or later. If she doesn't want me to know now, then I won't push her any further. So I drop the matter.

"Want to go out to get more food?" I change the subject. "While it's still bright."

"Sure, brainless." Her voice is back to its usual cool tone, and I sigh in relief.

"Let's go." We take our packs and a knife and climb carefully out of the rocks. The smell of rain still lingers in the air, and I notice it's rather hazy. Maybe it's the strange aftermath of arena rain created by the Gamemakers, which no doubt is intentional. Maybe in the hope that we can't see and will run into one another, or perhaps hoping a few will collapse from the bad air. Therefore, we should stick to the trees more.

"Is there anywhere that is not forest?" I can't help asking in spite of the conclusion I just reached.

"No, brainless." She pauses a moment. "Wait, I think I saw something of that sort, though I didn't go there. It's potentially dangerous, I mean, who knows what they've put in there. And who knows _who_'s there."

"Let's go, anyway. We need food. Mint leaves won't hold us for very long. I'm starving already," I grumble.

"Really, brainless? You just had a biscuit and I'm sure you're bursting with the water." She punches me on the arm playfully. "Yeah, sure, I'll bring you there, _brainless_."

"Lead on, tour guide," I joke and get another punch. She starts walking and I follow behind. We trek through the forest for about an hour, sometimes talking, sometimes just brisk-walking silently, and sometimes I whistle to lift the uneasy silence. But whatever we do, we try our best to steer clear of the depressing topic of the Games. Being in it is already enough. I wonder how the Capitol has brainwashed their children to be so supportive of the Games and to stare at their screen with cold, unfeeling hearts. To watch the children die so painfully each year - surely something must have broken in them at some point in time?

After a long journey through the never-ending forest, Soraya stops abruptly and holds a hand out behind her to prevent me from bumping into her. "Here," she says. "No forest."

She doesn't need to say that. The forest magically ends, and in front of us is a wide plain, covered with pale yellow stalks of flowers, stretching out quite a bit. Behind it is just rock, a narrow strip of rough granite which drops down into...nothing. It's a cliff. But _behind_ the cliff is a mountain, a generous spread of deep green grass the colour of my interview dress on it, the same pale yellow stalks dancing in the air, held up by thin apple green stems, and there's a new addition of sky blue blossoms bobbing up and down in the slight breeze. It makes you want to lie down amidst the flowers and grass and just gaze up at the sky without a care in the world.

I admit, if there's some trap the Gamemakers were trying to lure us into by providing this scenic paradise, they have succeeded. All I want to do now is to go and lie down in the grass and flowers, the calm breeze blowing my tangled hair back, the swaying stalks of flowers taking away the Games, engulfing me in them, taking me to a place where I can really call home. A place where our lives are not threatened every day, where we're not forced to mature once we're old enough to be aware of things.

"I never knew...you saw this place before?" I turn to Soraya. She's gazing with interest at the spread of grass in front of us.

"Of course, brainless...but only from a distance. I think I was wandering somewhere around here. I never actually came here, though."

"Well, you've got a good sense of direction. I had to scatter mint leaves to mark my path."

"_Brainless_," she jokes. "Well, now that we're here, what do you want to do?"

I don't know exactly. I guess I was just too tired of all the forest. "Well, it's sunset already. We shouldn't travel by night because it's when the Careers will be out. I guess we have to camp here and leave tomorrow morning."

"You sure? It could be dangerous..." Soraya sounds uncertain but complies.

"It could be, but we have to take the risk. You think it's likely anyone will come here?"

"I don't think so..." she replies, shrugging. "Well, okay then, but-"

She's interrupted by a pained yell from somewhere nearby. I estimate it to be about two, three hundred metres away on my right. Instinctively, my head whips in that direction, knife drawn, ready for an opponent. My instinct has always been to attack and not flee, so I move swiftly but silently towards the sound, pausing behind a tree to see who it is. The sight of blood leaking out on the ground makes me freeze, and momentarily I'm reminded of when I killed the District 8 boy, the innocent blood on my hands...

I steel myself and peer out even more, and my blood freezes. There's the Career boy from 1, of all people, lying painfully on the ground, blood gushing out freely from the gaping wound in his side, dyeing the dark green of the forest floor crimson red. The smell of blood lingers in the air around. His face is contorted in pain, and from his look, he wants all this to be over right now. He wants someone to end his suffering.

But none of this really makes sense until I see half of his body protruding out from behind a tree, the other half shadowed darkly by the wide trunk, giving him a menacing air about him. I've never really seen him like this before. Sword in hand, shoulders squared, clumps of hair barely concealing wild eyes. Deathly gaze set on me.

**A/N: Cliffhanger mwahahaha. :D**  
**Yes you hate it, but I can't help myself ^^**


	10. Chapter 10: We meet again

**A/N: Hope you all liked the cliffhanger last chapter, though you probably would have guessed who it is. Right? :D**  
**For those who haven't, well read on!**  
**Sorry, this chapter is even shorter than the last...**  
**Once again, thanks for reading, reviewing, subscribing, favouriting!**

**Disclaimer: The Hunger Games are too awesome for me to write.  
**

Every instinct tells me to run. Run away from this savage, who has so callously killed a Career. Surely he would finish me off as well if I take one step closer. My sweaty hand releases my knife and it drops to the ground. I am no match for him. We didn't really know each other anyway, and he'll just kill me like he did the Career without any sentimentality. My only hope is that he'll make it a fast one. I don't want to suffer like this Career, lying on the ground, bleeding in pain. Up till now, his cannon still hasn't sounded. So I make the first move that will hopefully grant me some favour from him to let me die quick. I lift my hands up in a gesture of surrender and defeat, never breaking our gaze, and stand there in the awkward silence for a good few minutes. None of us speak. I'm paralysed with fright and fear, he's just standing there staring me down, and Soraya is behind doing who knows what.

"Johanna." He lowers his weapon, searching me with those green eyes that are so alike to Soraya's. I straighten up and stare him in the eyes, never blinking. My hands are still up in the air, but my arms aren't tired. It's as if my body is frozen in the icy air that is turning colder by the minute. Through my peripheral vision I notice the sky is still bright and cloudless. I guess the Gamemakers are keeping the sun up, seeing there's an interesting conversation and a possible death going on here. I wonder what the other tributes are making of this. Or are they somehow expecting it? Maybe someone else is here watching us.

His eyes flick away from mine and slightly behind me, and I know he's looking at Soraya, but I don't dare look behind. It's rather dangerous, even if we do know each other. That sword might just find a new bloody kill when I'm not looking. Maybe two.

"Johanna," he reiterates, but this time the hard tone in his voice is gone and it's replaced with something gentler, milder, you could even call it tender. "We meet again." This is said in a neutral tone, suggesting no hint of competition, and I'm slightly more reassured. Maybe he won't kill me after all.

I keep my gaze plastered to his and slowly lower my arms. "Cade." That's all that my cracked lips can force out of me. My tongue, too, is frozen with the rest of my body. But what is there to say anyway?

The cannon goes off right then, making me jump, and the boy on the ground stops breathing as if the cannon were a cue for it. His blood has stained the grass and Cade's sword crimson red. Just the sight of it makes me shudder, and my mind goes back to the swirling crystalline water in the lake that washed the District 8 boy's blood away. Staining everything that came into contact with it red. Contagious in itself. Blood. I tear my eyes away from the paralysed boy, lifeless on the ground, but it doesn't help. The colour and name itself lingers in my head, imprinted in my brain. I close my eyes for a moment, willing the awful image to go away, but even when my eyes are closed it comes in darkness to plague my mind.

"Kill me now, or don't kill me at all," I say out loud though it was only meant to be a thought. "I mean, well, do it. I'm not going to survive out here for long, am I?" I watch as he stares harder into my eyes until it couldn't be more intense, until I almost break my gaze. It's as if he's reading every hint of an emotion on my face, deciphering it into what I'm thinking. Then I add, "But make it quick."

He drops his sword to the ground in refusal, and I'm relieved both because of the fact that he's not going to kill me yet and also that the blood can get out of my mind. "Of course I won't," he scoffs. "What's the point? We're both from the same district anyway. Killing you will just be killing a chance for our district to win."

"It's different. If you kill me," I say, choosing my words carefully, "You'll get closer to going home and you mightn't have to die here. Isn't that what everyone wants? To become a victor and be safe for your life?" _No, that's not _true, I think. _In fact, it's the losers that get the better end of the deal. _But it's said mostly for the benefit of the Capitol people. And for my benefit, that I don't get blasted up for saying "_It's better if you lose._"

A flicker of emotion flashes across his face which I recognise as pain. "I don't have anyone...to go home to," he says haltingly.

"I don't either, and I've seen enough of this. All this blood. All the innocent lives, taken by us who have to become killers as teenagers, it's enough. I've had enough." It's true. All the time I've wanted to speak my mind, but afraid that the Capitol will take my statement for another meaning. Well, if they're eavesdropping now, all the better. Let them know exactly what I think of their savage citizens.

He narrows his eyes at me. "We? So you've taken some of these lives, too. You understand, then?" The pain in his voice is evident, and I know he has been experiencing the awful memories and déjà vu I have been having as well.

So I nod grimly. "Yes. I did, I mean I do." It's odd, how I speak of myself in past tense. As if knowing my imminent death is approaching soon. Perhaps it will be dealt by this boy in front of me? At this thought, the gleaming sword slick with blood in his hand reflects light right into my eyes, as if confirming my point.

Some sound not too far off distracts me. I pick up my knife and dart my gaze around, wary of anyone coming. I'll be doomed if it's _them_. No, not them. It can't be them. I'm not going to die at their hands. Cade grabs his sword and the dead boy's pack. "Well, we'll meet again."

I nod, both to myself and him, and we depart in different directions. Soraya is a distance away, frantically stuffing things into her pack and slinging it back on her shoulder. It's obvious that we can't spend the night here. Undoubtedly it is the Careers who have come for their ally, and Careers mean death. Death without a thought. With a glance at each other, Soraya and I sprint off into the forest, the harsh wind whipping against our faces.

**A/N: The next chapter will definitely be a few days later. Long or short wait, I don't know. **  
**But thanks for all the support! :)**


	11. Chapter 11: Lost in the arena

**A/N: I got started on this one right after I posted the double update, so don't be surprised there's 3 chapters in a day :)**  
**Warning: It gets a little scary at the end. Honestly, I got a little freaked out while writing it since it's dark and all. But that's partly because I was listening to piano music in a minor key, and it's playing in my head now.**  
**Oh, thanks for all the reviews. Every one is appreciated :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

We keep sprinting, not caring about the sound our boots make on the grass. We just run and don't stop till we're a good few kilometres away before both of us have to stop because we can't sprint any further, even if it is out of fear. We take a moment to properly sort out our packs before I realise I left my knife behind. I sigh between gritted teeth, mad that I made such a careless mistake and that the Careers have yet another weapon, if they can find it. Soraya tries to comfort me, saying there's a third knife, but I am still frustrated with myself.

A cannon startles me. There's ten left. Who could it be? I tick them off on my fingers. The four remaining Careers, the girl from 3, Soraya, Cade and me, the boys from 9 and 11. Those potentially dangerous to anyone would be the Careers and Cade. I'm not sure about the other three, but they don't pose that much of a threat now. Maybe they will later, but that won't come too soon. Let the Careers get them first, so I don't have to kill them myself. I'm still haunted by the District 8 boy.

This brings me to think of our alliance. We'll have to separate sooner or later, otherwise death will separate us. Preferably, I won't want to see her when she dies. It'll be too painful to bear, really. To see her lying on the ground with blood gushing out - it will haunt me even more. But some part of me knows she'll want me to be there for her, so i leave our alliance as it is. No point breaking off now. We help each other, anyway, and I benefit from this alliance as much as she does.

We briefly sneak a glance at each other and grin. Just to let the other know we're well and good to go. At this point in the Games, reassurance of some kind is essential. But then Soraya's grin fades and she asks, "So who was that? The cannon?"

I tell her who's left and then muse, "It won't likely be the other three, as the only ones who would kill them are the Careers. I'm not sure about Cade, but well..."

"I'm betting it's either him or them," she says grimly.

"So am I," I reply. "Well, we'll see tonight."

Just as we continue running, another cannon fires. I catch up with Soraya and tap her on the shoulder. She jumps, then turns around in relief. "Oh, it's just you. You gave me a fright."

"So who was _that_?"

"You see, brainless, the only ones to die now will be either Cade or the Careers. Supposing Cade has died, the other cannon will have to be for a Career, since they couldn't possibly get to the other tributes now. They've probably been fighting. So at least one Career is dead. And since the Careers won't turn on themselves now, there are two possibilities, one is that it's Cade and a Career. The other is that it's two Careers that Cade has killed. Wait and see if there's a third cannon," she reasons, but I just nod, not really paying attention. I guess it would make sense to me if I wrote everything out properly and thought about it, but I've never been good at reasoning in my head. So I just take her word for it.

The wind still lashes against our exposed faces and necks as we walk. No more cannons sound, and the sky gradually gets darker. We start to break into a jog, as the Careers have probably roamed far off by now, maybe in our direction, and the intended jog morphs into a sprint as the last shimmer of light in the horizon slips into the darkness. Slowly it gets darker and hard to see until it goes pitch black completely and we're forced to stop and settle who knows where. The anthem plays and the sky is illuminated by the projection. I think of moving while the projection is on, using its light, but I'm tired and besides, I want to see the death toll. I _have_ to.

As the boy from 1 flashes on the sky, I grip Soraya's arm with my cold hands, hoping the next is not what I dread. The girl from 2 is up, and the boy from 11. I heave a sigh of relief, but am secretly astounded by the _people_ Cade has somehow managed to kill. Careers. I wonder if it was he who killed the girl from 4 as well. Now there are three left in the Career pack. Maybe Cade is a threat after all. He didn't _promise_ not to kill me anyway, and when your life is on the line I guess you would do anything. Even if you have no one to return to.

People are going fast in this Games. I wonder how the boy from 11 died. Maybe it was some "natural disaster", as the Gamemakers would argue. The Capitol people are definitely hot on betting now. I wonder if I've got sponsors, and if Blight is going to send anything to me.

We feel around for a tree trunk and Soraya offers to take first watch while I sleep. I'm about to object when a yawn interrupts my argument, and she snickers. "Say you're not tired. There's proof, brainless."

I give in and curl up against the tree, tucking myself in my jacket as much as possible to maximise warmth. Then I close my eyes, bracing myself for yet another day in the arena.

* * *

I'm awoken in the middle of the night by Soraya, and she hands me her knife to keep watch. I take a sip of water and sit with my back to the tree, but I gaze at her from time to time, appreciating her calm composure when she is sleeping. Halfway through my shift, I hear something walking on the grass, and find a rabbit, obviously put her by the Gamemakers. I stab my knife into its fur and bring it back to the tree, and clean the blood off using some blades of grass. It's not the best job, but I gut it anyway, and leave the entrails by the foot of the tree, away from sight. I can't stand seeing more blood. Even now the memories haven't gone away yet.

Back in Seven we hardly ever had meat, but sometimes when the Peacekeepers weren't looking we would snatch a bird or two with our axes and divide it between the people around us, as everyone never really needed much, and the birds would turn bad if kept for too long. So I've had some experience with animals. I should cook the rabbit, but I'm not sure if I want to risk a fire. And since it's mostly pine all around, the wood will give off a lot of smoke...not ideal. But perhaps there's another way to go about it? That will have to wait till we get back to the rocks, though.

I fish some of the rope Soraya split in two out of my pack. Even if it's only half of it, it's still really long, probably around four metres, and I string the rabbit onto it, loop it around and hoist the thing onto my shoulder. I go around the perimeter of the tree looking for more, but I don't see any. There aren't any shrubs around here either. No edible plants. Either the Gamemakers are ignorant about the typical layout of forests, or this is intentional. I think it's the latter. They would torture us, wouldn't they?

As I'm about to sit back down, I spot another rabbit a little further off. I throw my knife, but the rabbit runs off with surprisingly agility and the knife lands on the ground. Gritting my teeth in frustration, I run over to retrieve my knife and shake my fist at the rabbit, sitting on the ground a little further off, staring at me through gleaming eyes. Then I realise something's wrong. This isn't a rabbit. Even in semi-darkness, I can see the creature clearly. It starts to get up on its hind legs, eyes shining more brightly than ever, and tilts its head ever so slightly forward. For a moment, neither of us move. Then it hisses and lunges at me, claws lashing out at my face. I stagger back, making a feeble attempt to stab it as it comes closer, but I feel its claws dig into my flesh and the only thing I can think of is _mutt _before everything goes black.

**A/N: If you're still feeling rather fine, you're awesome. Well, I am feeling fine, but I'm freaked out by the mutt part.**  
**I give up on writing a horror story.**


	12. Chapter 12: Reunited and separated

**A/N: Sorry for not updating yesterday, but this chapter's a long one :)**  
**Once again, thanks for reviewing, favouriting, following!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games!  
**

I slowly open my eyes and attempt to sit up, but my body is so badly bruised and wounded that it hurts even to lift a finger. There are holes and tears in my jacket where the mutt has scratched me, and I'm fortunate it didn't decide to sink its claws into my heart. The mutt has fled and my knife and pack lies a distance away from me. Something flutters on my chest when I breathe and I pick it up. It's a mint leaf. So Soraya has been here, but where is she now? I sniff the air to see if there are any more leaves she's scattered around, but there are none. I get up painfully and hobble to the tree where I left my supplies and the rabbit I killed, where Soraya is supposed to be. But she isn't. Nothing's left there. Sure that this is a dream, I cross to the other side of the tree, where I know I left the entrails of the rabbit. They're there, plain as day, and proof that everything wasn't a dream.

The sun suggests it's probably around noon, but I'm guessing probably a day has passed because the blood has clotted in some of the surface scrapes and scratches on my hands. I have lost my sense of direction. Even returning from the mountain, I was always following Soraya. I'm lost now. I wander around the area, stumbling and moving lethargically, occasionally stifling a groan as my wounds protest. The sky is dotted with white, wispy clouds, the blue hidden here and there. The wind blows against my body, fitting into the holes in my jacket, making my cuts sting all the more. Then I stop dead and stoop down.

There it is. A single mint leaf. I pick it up and hold it together with the first. So Soraya has left a trail of leaves, but where would she be? At the rocks? I have no idea how to get there. Maybe she's somewhere around here now? I look around for another leaf. Possibly the wind has blown them off course. Then I come across another. Scouting around the area, I come up with more and more, walking in the direction of the trail. It's tedious and takes considerably long as the leaves have all been blown away, since I've probably been unconscious for at least a day.

I wonder if anyone saw me. Perhaps the Careers didn't, or maybe they did, and thought I was in such bad shape I was as good as dead, or maybe they're just planning to take out the stronger competition until I'm one of the last few left, since I supposedly am a "weakling". My cold, cut fingers grip the rough rope handle of the obsidian knife tightly, until the coarse surface of the rope cuts into my palm. Even though I have a weapon here, I'm so injured and my head is spinning so much I doubt I could even stick it into someone now.

My tongue licks the cracked, bleeding surface of my lips and I realise how much I thirst for water. There's not a pool in sight, but I follow the mint leaf trail Soraya left, confident it'll take me back to the lake, where she'll be waiting. I keep picking up leaf after leaf, treading carefully through the forest that stretches on for eternity, through this large arena. After a kilometre, something moving on the ground startles me, and I can see it's a rabbit. I'm about to turn and sprint the way I came, anticipating its claws on my neck, but it doesn't come. Instead the rabbit just sits there, blinking occasionally, watching me passively. _It's just a normal rabbit_, I think. I throw my knife into its fur, which I can still manage, surprisingly, and it hits. Greatly relieved, I step forward to retrieve both my kill and the knife sitting in its fur, and pull up some grass to wipe the blood off. I clean the entrails out and holding the rabbit by the ears, continue trekking, following the mint leaves.

Pretty soon it falls dark, which makes me question my judging of time. I find a makeshift place to rest in the shrubs and try to fit my body in the leaf litter as best as I can so I won't be seen. I hope no one will come here, because I'll be rather defenceless. The anthem plays loudly, but no one's died today. I wonder how many nights I missed, and if anyone else died. Slowly I fall asleep, cradling my cut arms.

* * *

When I open my eyes, it's still rather dark. But at least I'm safe. I slowly sit up, stirring up the leaves around me, trying to make as little noise as possible. Even in the mid-darkness I can make out someone crouching nearby, head down, and I freeze, fingers curling around my knife. Then the person looks up, and I'm shocked by who it is.

"Cade? Why are you here?" I ask, forgetting that I'm in the Games.

"Shush. I just came across you a while ago. Where's your ally?"

"I don't know. I was knocked out for a few days, I think. By a mutt. Anyone died after the day we first met?"

"That was 2 days ago, and no deaths. Well, there was a fire coming towards one of the lakes over there, supposedly to spur action," he says, pointing in a direction.

I think it's probably our camp. That explains why Soraya didn't bring me back there or stay with me or something. But since I have no burns whatsoever, the fire was probably cut off at the lake. And that's why she left a mint trail, leading me to our new camp. "Seen my ally?" I ask Cade.

"I saw her running, but only from a distance. She was gone after that."

Hope she's still alive and well. "Thanks," I say, standing up and slinging my pack back onto my shoulders. Then I sniff the area for more mint leaves. "I'm going to find her now. She left a mint trail for me to follow."

"You mind if I come?"

I raise my eyebrows. Honestly, I wasn't expecting him to offer that, but I say yes anyway, since now it's quite obvious he won't hurt me. Soon after, I locate another mint leaf and keep going. I pick up more as the hours pass and the sky brightens, and Cade offers decent company. We make small talk about our time in the arena, joking here and there, and I ask him if he's got any sponsor gifts yet.

"Yeah, you got any?"

"No," I say bluntly.

"Not yet, huh?" He attempts a smile and I force one onto my lips as well.

Soon the mint leaves lead me to an area with a shelf of rocks not unlike the ones at the lake, and looking down at the rabbit I caught yesterday, I have an idea. Some matches are in my pack, and I pile twigs in one of them, deftly light a match and fling it into a small gap in the rocks, creating a small contained fire inside. I thread the rabbit through larger twigs as some form of spit, and poke it through the larger holes in the rocks. Cade watches silently as I go about this, and when the rabbit's inside the rocks I sit back, wiping my sooty hands on my jacket, and wait.

I sit for what I think is enough time for it to cook, occasionally peering inside the rocks to see if it's done yet, and when I think it looks cooked I hoist some rocks off the shelf, draw the spit out and clamp them down fast enough so the smoke won't escape. I can't afford water to put out the fire now, and seeing it's in the rocks, it should go out after a while. I just throw some damp tree bark I found on the flames. The rabbit is a little burned, but it's cooked, and I tear off part of it and divide it between Cade and myself. We continue following the mint trail, and I dig out more of the leaves from my pack, offer some to Cade, and nibble on them as an addition to the rabbit lunch. It's a good meal for the arena, and I've actually had a craving for meat ever since we were dropped in this forest. I suck the bone clean and bury it in the leaf litter on the ground. The rest will be for another day, or Soraya if I can find her. Anyway, there seems to be more rabbits around here. Shouldn't be a problem getting another. Don't forget Soraya probably has the other rabbit I caught.

We go on for a while longer. Soraya seems to have travelled a really long way. The landscape seems vaguely familiar...then I realise, she was heading for the field and mountain. Yes, I remember seeing that particular tree, this patch of dull red flowers, the leaf litter around. We're headed for the mountain. It takes me really long compared to the hour we first took to get there, but then I realise I've spent extra minutes here and there locating the leaves. Unsure of where she was leading me. But now that I do, I break off into a run for the mountain. I can hear Cade yelling to know where I was going, but I ignore him and keep running. Soon, the field of flowers and the mountain behind draw into view, unchanged as ever. I run until I get to the very edge of the forest, then stop. The following footsteps behind me stop as well, and Cade mutters, "Makes sense, why she'd be here."

"Johanna!" someone screams nearby, and Soraya runs out towards me. "You ok? You looked really bad when I found you, but I had to get away quick. There was a fire and the air was bad, but I figured you'd come."

I nod weakly and extend the spit, with the rabbit still on it, to her. "I got meat."

We walk to the tree where she has dropped all our stuff, including the first rabbit I caught days ago, which I notice she has somehow managed to cook. Parts of it has been eaten, and the rest is getting old. She refuses my offer and instead passes me some of the first rabbit, saying it won't keep for long. I ease myself down on the grass, back against a tree, and am half surprised to see Cade isn't here. Why did he leave? But soon I see someone standing still as a statue behind a tree, and after a couple of minutes the figure takes off, feet thudding silently against the ground. Strange.

"Johanna," Soraya says, fear and concern dancing in her eyes. She examines my torn jacket and bleeding limbs, and the cuts on my face that dripped blood, now clotted and dried. "You didn't come for three nights, but no one died yet, and I was starting to worry."

I brush away her concern and stand up. "I'm fine, really. So there's eight left?" Without waiting for an answer, I bring my finger to my temple, where I feel something thick trickling out. "I just don't want us to be the last two."

"What are you trying to say, Johanna?" The green eyes burn into me, pulsing mysteriously, boring into my thoughts.

There's no point beating around the bush any more, so I look her in the eye and state plainly, "We're going to have to break up soon."

She averts her gaze and solemnly nods. "I know. Alliances don't last forever, do they, brainless?"

I don't reply to that. My mind wanders to Cade, and I think I begin to understand his actions. Why he didn't want Soraya to know he was there, and why he left after he saw I was with her. Because alliances don't last forever.

It's about three or four in the afternoon, and we just sit there. Soraya managed to get everything out from the rocks before she escaped, so we have our stuff and the extra knife. I don't know what became of the knife I somehow lost here. I remember picking it up when we were leaving, then when we stopped it was no longer in my hands. I probably dropped it on the way.

The burning sun beats down on our heads, though the air is freezing. I wriggle my hands into the long jacket sleeves, clenching my frozen fingers into fists, curling up in a ball and sticking close to Soraya to conserve body heat. I'm sure the temperature has dropped two times colder than on the first day. I restlessly dig my knife into the ground, uprooting blades of long grass and flowers and halfheartedly weaving them into a crown of pale yellow blossoms intertwined with grass. The end result is something like the one I wore during my interview, except that this one has the natural scent of flowers and grass and carries the fond memories of the meadows beyond the trees back home.

I fiddle with my handiwork, occasionally gazing up at the blue sky without a hint of clouds in it, otherwise talking with Soraya. It's probably around six when we go out to scavenge for food after finishing one rabbit, and she finds a patch of berries among the flowers. An image comes to mind, the trainer extending a handful of different berries to me, pointing to one particular dark purple berry and saying, "_This one's safe_." I grin at Soraya's find and pick some of the berries, filling our palms full with them and bringing them back to camp. We have these plus a rabbit leg for dinner, but I'm starting to miss the mint leaves. We still have some, but we're running out last time I checked our stash of food.

The sky falls dark much earlier than it's supposed to be, and the sound of crickets chirping fills my ears. We squat there in semi-darkness, packs on our backs, knives in hands, fearing something's going to happen. I occasionally sneak a worried glance at Soraya. What's going on? There's still eight of us, so the Gamemakers shouldn't be sending some sort of natural disaster or mutts on us yet. Something's wrong with this darkness. I can't see. I can just make out the plants in this vicinity, but I can't see as well as in the daytime. I hate this half-darkness. Who knows why it's descending on us now.

A hand rests on my shoulder, and I look behind to see her eyes flicking around, wary of the danger approaching. There's an air of uneasiness around. She gasps, and hurriedly whispers, "Get up, Johanna, get up. It's coming."

I stand, and get a glimpse of what's coming our way. Even though it's dark, I still can see it distinctly. Black and brutal, engulfing everything it brushes past. Blanketing the cheerful flowers in a sooty black. Just as I take off into a sprint after Soraya, something reaches my skin. It's the black mist.

**A/N: I just had to end with a cliffhanger. But I'll update soon!**


	13. Chapter 13: Anything can happen

**A/N: Ok, so I decided to be mean. This chapter is one you're not going to like, and to be honest I didn't want to write it either, but it had to happen anyway. It's part of my plotline as well...so read on!**  
**Thanks to ArtemisKey and thegirlwiththeaxe for reviewing the previous chapter :)**

**Disclaimer: I could never own the Hunger Games because if I did, the strange ideas in my fics would be the result of it.**

With the initial cooling sensation of the mist comes searing pain. It leashes out at us with its brutal black fingertips, clawing repeatedly at us and leaving us with burns. My eyes sting, making me run faster all the more, but the mist catches up with us. I stumble blindly after Soraya, having no sense of direction myself, trusting her intuition. I keep so close to her for fear of losing her that I'm practically stepping on her heels, but at this point I'm barely thinking. The mist is invading my clarity of mind. So when she stumbles and collapses to the ground, I fall on top of her, unable to see anything in the distance, the searing pain rippling through my limbs and making me cry out. Somehow I manage to roll off her and get up, dizzy, taking hold of a tree while the world morphs around me. In and out, clear and blur. I have no idea where we are now, and I think I see large wasps fly right through me. The only thought that comes to my mind is that the mist has stopped pursuing us.

Slowly everything comes into focus and the forest stops spinning. The darkness lifts slightly and though my eyes still sting badly, I can make out Soraya crumpled on the ground beside me, and the bloody welts on my hands, clinging onto a tree trunk for dear life. I slide down onto the ground and get my pack off my back with as much strength as I can muster. Fortunately, the mist hasn't destroyed it one bit. I manage to dig for my water bottle and take a long sip. Water. When I'm feeling better, I crawl over to Soraya, slumped on the grass, and I drip some water on her bloodied face in the hopes that she'll wake up. I'm supposing I look the same too.

It takes a while, but her eyes finally open and I help her up to a sitting position, leaning her against a tree. "Johanna," she whispers hoarsely. "Where are we?"

I start to reply, but am interrupted by a stinging pain in my throat and I have to cough it out. It's slightly better after that, but it still hurts. "I don't know." I pass her my open water bottle. "Drink."

She takes a long sip, and her voice is clearer after that. I'm half-aware that the darkness has subtly lifted, and light returns to the forest. Now that my senses are back to normal, I get my first-aid kit out of my pack and see if there's anything that could heal us. There's some high-tech medical salve that is labelled "Burns", and when I cautiously unscrew the cover and take a look it's white cream. I look from the red, sore welts on my hands to the cream, then back again. Well, no harm trying.

We apply it all over on our limbs and faces and granted, it's not really a large tub, but it's half gone by the time we finish. The healing power is worth it though, and soon the scabs peel off to find new, pinkish skin below. I sigh in relief, and sort through all my supplies, glad to find none of it damaged by the mist. My knife was hurriedly thrown into my pack, so I fish around for it and almost instantly, my fingers come into contact with the wreath of flowers and grass I weaved just now. It's crushed by all the heavier contents of my pack, loose stalks here and there. I hold it for a moment, fingers encircling the smooth line of stalks, before I release it back into my pack and pick my knife out.

The wind whips our faces once again as I get up from the ground, stretching my sore, wounded legs. "Let's go."

"Go where, brainless?" she replies, still on the ground.

"Somewhere safer."

She gets up as well. "Since when, brainless, is any place in the arena safe?" Her tone comes off as stern, but she's grinning. "Sure, let's go."

We start off in the direction which she claims is the lake, which is good, since we need water anyway. We half-jog since it's going to get dark for real in about an hour's time, and I recognise the place with the rock shelves where I cooked my rabbit. The fire is out, fortunately. All of a sudden, a silver parachute floats down in front of me. A full bottle of water and a medium-sized loaf of bread. Is that for me? It must be, because Soraya's a couple of steps ahead. I never knew I had sponsors...

I grab the parachute and run to catch up with Soraya. "Hey," I say, holding my gift in front of her by the strings of the parachute. "Water and bread."

Her eyes widen at the sight of it. "You got _sponsors_?"

"Well, yeah, this just floated down in front of me..." I trail off, trying to sound modest. "We can share. It's more than enough anyway."

We stop and I pour half the water into her bottle. Then we continue walking, nibbling at bite-size pinches of the bread. I wrap it in the plastic sheet to save it for tomorrow, and we resume our jog, eager to get to the lake by evening. The azure blue of the sky gradually transforms into grey as we jog, and then Soraya stops. "Here we are."

I gape at the lake, or should I say what used to be the lake. It's so altered by the fire it's indescribable. Where the lake was there is only a deep, dry crater that is crumbling into itself. The rocks we used as our fortress are all scattered and non-existent. The pine and cedar trees are lying all around, charred and scattered. Most of the grass on the ground has burnt away, leaving circles of dark burnt patches. I step tentatively over a fallen tree and get a closer view of the wreckage. The air still smells of smoke and the air is hazier than when we first left. It scares me, how drastically the landscape has changed, even if it _is_ the Games.

Entranced by the wreckage of smoking pine and scattered rocks, I keep treading on the charred ground. The entire area screams "fire". My feet somehow take me to the lake and I find myself peering over the edge of the crater. That's deep. How on earth did a fire manage to dry up a lake this big? Oh, but what am I thinking? It's the Games. Anything can happen in the Games, right?

I've just reached this conclusion when the soft soil beneath me starts to sink into the ground and I leap up and land sprawled on the ground a good metre away, horrified and shocked. Something hurts at the bottom of my back. I hear feet running over, hands grabbing me, pulling me up. I manage, and smile at Soraya. Her eyes hold the same look of concern as they did, but I just shake her chiding off. "I'm fine."

"You kidding, brainless? You just sank into the ground!"

"I didn't sink," I state. "I was about to. But I'm fine, really. Let's go." I start to walk, but am stopped by an excruciating pain in my hip. Not wanting Soraya to worry, I keep going, trying my best to look normal, though it makes me scream with pain inside. One step at a time...slowly...I somehow manage, but I think I've injured something there. I did land rather hard.

The sky is getting dark, and I walk gingerly to where Soraya stashed her pack, and put mine down as well. We'll camp here. As I sit down I stifle a groan, my hip objecting every movement, and pick a small piece of bread to eat. The sky is briefly illuminated by the projection, but no one's died. Well, of course, since we didn't hear a cannon. When the projection fades and the sky goes dark again, I offer to take first watch, since Soraya's been doing it for the past few days. She looks like she's about to argue, but lies down anyway. "Wake me after a couple of hours."

I push myself over to a tree, straining against the pain at the base of my back, and lean against it. I dare not move more for fear it will rupture something else. I don't think it's broken, but maybe sprained or twisted. Whatever it is, I just have to hold out. I spend most of the time gazing at Soraya like I did all those times before, no particular feelings, just admiring her peaceful expression when she's asleep. My mind goes to the events of the day and I remember the flowers I weaved. I pull it out of my pack and finger the delicate blossoms, the sleek stalks going in circles, intertwining with each other. Memories return, embedded in each stalk of flowers, each blade of grass reminiscent of the meadows surrounding my home, the place where I spent my childhood. Even if it was where I witnessed many ruthless, cruel deaths, it still holds some sentimentality.

I don't know how much time has passed, but I shake Soraya awake after what I think is a few hours. Then I lie down, trying not to damage anything else, and am instantly lulled to sleep by the rhythmic buzzing of the insects.

* * *

What is going on? I'm in a forest somewhat resembling the one in the arena, but this is not the arena at all. The trees are...blue. Colourful birds fly all over and the fluorescent shades make my eyes hurt. There's not a sound, yet in the distance I see two people running, looking around frantically, yelling to each other. I'm confused, wondering what they're yelling about, but when I turn around I see it.

It's hideous. It splashes the bright blue of the trees with pitch blackness, throwing a stifling blanket of black onto the entire forest. Nothing seems to hinder it, and it moves soundlessly through the forest, tearing and uprooting trees that lie in its path, ripping the ground off like paper, its forceful wind rushing towards me and blowing my hair back, stinging the cuts on my face. I scream, and turn to run, only to find my legs unable to move an inch. Paralysed in midair.

I kick, claw at everything, until exhaustion wears me out. I feel like I'm clapped in iron. My legs do not move at all however hard I try. And it's approaching, coming closer. Slowly, but it's still moving. And I'm not. I can already feel the searing pain slithering up my arms, making them twitch and go limp. Then they disintegrate, melting into fine sand the colour of my skin, falling all to the ground, leaving me wide-eyed and horror-filled. And here I am, still standing in this same position, every single cell frozen. I struggle to breathe, but nothing is reacting. Yet in this terrifying place, there is no sound. None at all. I might even say the silence is deafening.

Then it invades my thoughts, circling around and ripping me open with excruciating pain. I scream for it to stop, but it doesn't. Of course it would never. Can it even hear me? In my depths of despair I give one last futile attempt at running, but I can't move. I'm trapped. Trapped in this dark forest with the terrors of the black mist swirling towards me.

* * *

My eyes snap open and I find myself panting. Thoughts of every kind are screaming in my head right now. I sit up and my blood freezes for a moment when I realise I _am_ in a forest, but as I painfully stand up I realise I'm here, back in the arena. Safe. The trees aren't blue. There are no colourful fluorescent birds flying around. And there's no mist. Slowly things come into focus. A figure slides into view, repeating my name over and over again, holding something out to me. "Johanna," the person says. "Johanna, are you ok?"

Then everything returns and I relax, sitting back down. I take the water bottle she extends to me and gratefully drink. "I'm fine. Just had a nightmare, that's all. Thanks anyway."

She bends down. "You were screaming in your sleep. Something not so wise to do in the arena, brainless."

I muster a grin. "Well, it's over. No one came, right?"

"None that cared to show themselves."

I take a deep breath. All of a sudden I realise my back doesn't hurt any more, much to my relief. Well, maybe it does, but only just a little. "So what now? I mean, we can't stay here forever. We need more water and food."

She hoists her pack onto her shoulders and gives me a hint of a smile. "Race you to the mint bush." Then she takes off. Caught by surprise, I grab my pack too and sprint after her indignantly, my back screaming for me to go slower. But she's got a good head start of tens of metres though the bush is at least three hundred away.

It comes so fast I can barely react. Even if I could, I wouldn't know what to do. Something flies towards the running figure in front of me and embeds itself in her, and whoever threw it has good calculation skills. I look in the direction of where it came from, and see a figure running off. She looks familiar. That's the girl from 3. But there's no point pursuing her now, she's off and running to safety. Probably doesn't know I'm here.

I turn my attention back to the fallen figure in front of me. The horrible flashbacks revive themselves when I see _it_. That abhorrent red liquid. Spilling out, staining her jacket and the grass. Some supernatural force propels me over and I bend over where Soraya lies, shaken and remorseful. This is all my fault. I've failed again. Only this time, I _have_ done damage. Permanent damage, to the one real friend I had in this arena.

The knife is buried deep in her, and blood gushes out from the wound. It makes me ache inside to see her like this, knowing some part of it was my fault, that I have wronged her yet again. For a moment, I wish it was me who was dying instead. She doesn't deserve it, but I do. Her face is contorted in pain, yet she tries to speak. Her voice is so weak that I have to put my ear to her mouth to hear it.

"My jacket...it was...them..."

I want to probe more, to ask her what she means, but I'm afraid she'll give up before I can tell her what I've wanted to say for a very long time. "I'm sorry...I'm really sorry..." Though she doesn't know it, my apology is for way more than not saving her. But when it finally comes out of my mouth, I feel like a weight has been lifted off my burden.

The green eyes look up into mine, holding every sign of trust and friendship. Her lips form a smile and I know it's hard to keep it there when you're going through so much pain. "I'm sorry too..."

"I'll do this. I'll win." I hesitate before adding, "I promise, brainless."

The last emotion that shows on her face is the hint of a smile. Her hand finds mine and squeezes it tightly for a couple of seconds. I treasure this few seconds, when the warmth radiates from her fingers, such a contrast to the freezing air. But then it goes limp and the cannon fires. I'm about to get up and walk off, before I remember something. There's still something I must do, and it will in no way compensate for how much I owe her, but it's still something. I carefully take the wreath of flowers from my pack and place it on her body, being careful not to damage any of the tiny blossoms. Then on second thought I take her pack and the obsidian knife that is still tightly clutched in her hand, and run to the mint bush to finish our mission without looking back once.

* * *

A couple of hours have passed when I hear the loud patter of someone running, footsteps thudding on the leaf litter. But I only hear one person, so it can't be the Careers. Curious, I step into the shadow of a tree, poised to run, knife at the ready. The District 9 boy crashes through the trees, ducking under branches, leaping over low shrubs and logs. I recognise him from training. He was one of the 'acquaintances' whom I exchanged a few words and friendly nods with. Sad to say, his name has slipped my mind and I can't really remember anything about him except for his district. He catches sight of me, and yells just one word. "Run!"

I have no time to question him, but I take off after him. It better not be the Careers. We sprint away, running in the protection of the trees, turning sharply to put whoever it is off our trail. Fortunately this area is full of leaf litter so we don't really leave a trail, but there's no time to cover our tracks. He stops at a wide, hollow log, and motions for me to go in. I crawl inside the damp, rotting wood without question and he squeezes in after me. I'm thinking it's fortunate that we're not too big...

There's still a bit of space in the log and I gather pebbles and twigs to try and mask the holes in the log and part of the entrance. Running footsteps draw closer and closer and I've just drawn back my hand when a boot steps into the clearing, followed by two other pairs of feet, no, three! So they've got someone else to join their Career pack. That must be the girl from 3. Well, I would have guessed it. Where else would she have gotten that knife from? I have no idea why they let her live, but maybe it's because she seemed quite a fighter at training.

Both of us cramped in the log are not even daring to breathe, let alone move. The footsteps stop for a while. Then they resume, followed by a haughty voice. "You sure he came here? This forest is getting all too confusing."

"Yes. I saw him. And another girl as well. That weakling from Seven," replies a brutish male voice.

"Well, no point. We lost them. Let's go," says the first voice curtly.

The boots drag their owners off, making a rustling sound in the leaf litter, and I'm about to think we're safe. I nudge the boy and start to climb out of the log, but instantly the flurry of feet lunging towards me makes me freeze in my tracks. A cold hand locks my shoulder in place and I can feel the freezing blade of a knife at my throat. Stiff with fear, I slowly inch my gaze upwards. It's the girl from 3. The killer of my ally.

Another rustle of feet coming towards me make me turn my head towards the sound. The boy from 9 has materialised out from the log, and he goes up to the girl. "Let her go."

She turns her gaze from me to him, drawing the knife away from my throat and towards him. Swiftly, I knock it out of her hand and draw my own knife. She laughs when she sees the obsidian blade with its roped handle. "I could chip that thing."

I don't reply, but instead direct it at her heart. She ducks, but it gets her in the shoulder, and I manage to pull my knife out before she can get it. She looks in the direction the Careers went, and yells, "I got them!"

I take off before the Careers can turn around. I hear someone else running behind me, and I think it's the boy from 9. But when I turn and look over my shoulder, I see the girl from 3 chasing me, and behind her is a sight I regret seeing. I freeze in mid-run, watching helplessly as the girl from 1 drives her sword into the boy from 9 and he crumples to the ground.

That's enough to send me on edge and I furiously lash out at the girl from 3, hacking at her repeatedly with my knife before she can retaliate, until her arms are bleeding and wounded and she stumbles. _No, this is not for calling the Careers back. This is for my ally._Then I plunge the blade into her chest and she drops to the ground. The cannon fires soon after. I look up at the three Careers, staring at me, and then at the boy from 9, fallen to the ground. The girl from 3 lies limp beside me and I kick her body away, stepping towards the Careers. There's a muted sound behind me and out of the corner of my eye, I see a metal claw drop down and carry the girl upwards, leaving not a trace of her behind.

We have a fierce staring match for who knows how long. My heart is palpitating in my chest and I know that if I make one false move, I'll be guaranteed a knife in my heart there and then. I wonder why they don't just kill me. It's three against one, after all, and they all hold weapons. They undoubtedly have skill and think they are going to win this fight. And they're right. They _are_ going to win this fight. But since we're having this awkward silence where no one knows what to do, I could make use of it. Anything can happen in the Games, after all.

**A/N: Longest chapter yet! Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14: Weak no more

**A/N: So sorry for not updating! I was writing my other fics but I'm finally back to this one! Well I made everyone sad previous chapter...but it's the Games anyway. So where did I end off? Right. 3 people died, to be 4 if Johanna makes the wrong move...hehe :P  
Read on, and discover that maybe it wasn't really three...  
Oh, and thanks for all the reviews!  
You might not find this chapter that realistic, my apologies for that. I might have to re-upload it again.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games.**

They study me, cold-blooded eyes perusing my face. They would have been good-looking if they weren't about to take my life now. I wish we had the chance to get to know each other as acquaintances or even friends instead of forever thinking of them as killers. I catch a wave of emotions cross each of their faces, from surprise to shock to smugness and superiority. And is that what I'm seeing - even if it's so slight - fear. For the first time, things make sense. I have tricked them. Made them think I'm a weakling and surprised them by killing their ally in front of their eyes. I don't think they would have minded anyway, they would probably have killed her themselves when she was of no use later. Bet they didn't ever dream that I would kill someone and make them suffer so much. _If only you knew,_ I think. _If only_.

I have both Soraya's knife and mine. I can kill two at one go. But won't the last one left kill me? I wonder how Cade managed to kill them, without getting killed himself. Possibly he was hiding. Well, that's something I can't do now. I'm practically dead now, if I don't think of something fast.

"Why the wait?" I blurt out, hoping to buy some time. It's pretty risky to talk, but it's either I grab this chance to live or don't live at all. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Careers don't zoom in on their kill right away. At the same time my sweaty hands get a grip on my knives, ready to react if they pounce on me.

The boy from 2 steps closer, sword drawn. "You want to die, Seven?" I recognise his voice as the second brutal voice that spoke just now. He gestures to the boy from 9, bleeding profusely and unconscious. "Just like your ally?"

No. I don't want to die. At this point, I realise that I have a chance to win, a chance as good as anyone else. But what good is it to say that right in his face? So instead I state the truth. "He's not my ally."

He steps so close that he could just finish me off with one swipe of his sword. "You want to die?" he repeats. His menacing tone already sends shivers down my spine.

I'm getting more intimidated and agitated by the second, and yet fearful. He could just kill me whenever he wished. Why are they wasting so much time on me? I anticipate his death blow, knowing it will come in a matter of seconds. I'm dead meat.

The boy lashes his sword out without warning and it opens a gash across my arm. I take the chance to stab his shoulder, knowing he wouldn't be able to lift his sword that easily if the tendon was ruptured. In Seven, this happened quite a lot, people injuring their shoulder and unable to manipulate axes for quite a while after that, so we're generally well-informed of this.

The blade goes in deep. And it comes out coated in red. The boy loosens his grip on his sword, and I repeatedly stab him like I did the girl from 3. But I don't kill him yet. Not yet. Let him suffer in his own blood. I pocket one knife and take his sword, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch the District 9 boy crawling up to the unsuspecting District 1 girl, holding a glinting knife in his hand, and burying its blade in her heel.

Something tears my skin open at my left elbow as I turn and I look to see the boy from 4 sprinting towards me. The knife he threw has fallen to the ground, the wound it inflicted deep and spewing with blood. But my eyes are not on the blood. I'm transfixed by the axe he's holding. Only one thought is pounding over and over in my head. _I need that axe_. It's what I'm best with. The knives weren't bad; the obsidian blades served me well, but I still prefer an axe. And now the weapon I really wanted to get my hands on is in the possession of this boy charging towards me.

I duck to the side just as he swings the axe at me, and stab his shoulder. He doesn't drop the axe like I expected him to, but instead transfers it to his other uninjured hand, using my moment of surprise to swipe it at my throat, and it came so close that I could almost feel the cold metal contacting with the hairs on my neck. Oh no, this one's ambidextrous. I definitely wasn't seeing that coming, but I slash at him anyway, dodging the axe as best as I can, but the inevitable wounds still come.

Both of us finally fall to the ground in exhaustion, bleeding and breathing heavily. I could just throw my knife at him, but both my arms have gashes all over and I can barely lift it before the pain forces me to drop it. I take the chance to sneak a look at the girl from 1, and she's on the ground, bleeding at her knees, but otherwise very much alive and irritated. The boy from 9 is behind her quite a distance away, lying on his side, and I figure he has somehow crippled her. I briefly wonder where he got the knife from, but then I remember having knocked one out of the District 3 girl's hand.

A sound interrupts my thoughts and I stand, awaiting an enemy, before I remember that apart from this half-dead Career group and the District 9 boy, there's only Cade left. I really don't want to kill him, and if I finish off these Careers now, there will only be both of us left plus the District 9 boy, but I don't think any of us could kill the other. Cade might kill him, but then we'd be the last two left. So I hobble shakily to the boy from 2, on the ground, and hold his sword over him threateningly. "I won't kill you. Not now. But maybe some time after."

He's so wounded he looks grotesque, but he still manages to get his reply out. "Do as you wish, but you'll regret it. You nearly killed me, just finish it off."

I shake my head and drop the sword by his side, knowing Blight must be cursing me for not killing him when I had the chance. But I can't. Surely he must understand that I could never bring myself to kill Cade and the District 9 boy. Even leaving the Careers alive to do the job for me seems cruel enough already. That's exactly what I've become. And I hate it.

I get into a half-run, away from all the bloodshed and gore. Away from the boy from District 9, who saved my life. It takes me a painstaking few hours to travel a couple of kilometres, and my wounds beg for me to stop. Halfway through I receive a sponsor gift, another full bottle of water and some green medical salve that I'm assuming is for my wounds. I'm sure people are only sponsoring me because I promise a bloody fight that will suit their taste. I didn't manage to get the axe, but I hope I will eventually. I _need_ that axe.

A cool wind whistles through the airy holes in my jacket, yet I keep running. Never pausing for anything. Just holding my two packs, knives and the sponsor gift, which I still have not bothered to stop and untangle from its parachute. Because I know that if I do stop, I will probably never be able to continue my journey. My journey home.

After all I've gone through this Games, I feel I've seen enough. I don't want to keep living. Maybe the thing I should do is to collapse and give up. But yet it is this thought that keeps me going. I don't know where I'm going. I just keep travelling obstinately away from the memories that continue to flood my mind hauntingly. But it doesn't work. Deep inside, I know I can never really escape them. Where could I run to that those bitter memories can't return and plague me?

The sky falls dark again, but I haven't stopped once. I received another gift, a pack of crackers, and though my brain tells me to stop, my legs are intransigent, never tiring, pressing on. It goes on for the entire night, even when the anthem plays and the faces of the two dead show in the sky. I never look up. Except for once. Just once, just a glimpse at the sky to see her once more. But no more than a glimpse. That's all. Even then, a single tear stings my eyes as I catch sight of her bright green eyes, once full of life, now closed forever. I pull my hood up and as I pass a small puddle, I catch my reflection in the glistening water, illuminated by the ghastly moonlight. I am no longer a weakling. I am a survivor, made to fight against others in this deathly arena, who has lost so much and yet taken more. As the last strain of the anthem plays and the forest darkens, I splash my boot into the puddle and the image disappears into millions of tiny droplets. Then I keep running.

* * *

When my marble-weighted eyelids slowly lift themselves up, I realise three things. The first thing is that I'm in a forest. The second is that it's afternoon. And the third is that I'm cut and bleeding all over. I get up and find my fingers still tightly clutching my sponsor gifts, and the other hand gripping the obsidian knife so hard the rope has cut into my palm. My pack is still safely on my back, and I wearily check through all my belongings, toss the sponsor gifts inside and take a sip of water. Then I lean against a tree and examine my muddied wounds. I ration a few drops of water for each cut, saving more for gashes, and clean the dirt off the wounds, which makes me wince. Then I carefully apply the greenish salve I received yesterday onto my wounds, feeling the pleasure of the healing scrapes. It's not instant, but it definitely offers immense relief. A sigh escapes my abused body and I look up at the sun. How long have I been out for? Probably slightly more than twelve hours. I eat a couple of crackers, knowing I should get moving soon. It's too dangerous at this state to stay out here.

Along the way, my memories gradually return and I wonder about the Careers. How are they doing now? Are any of them dead yet? I could've easily missed a cannon shot sometime in the early morning. I guess I'll just have to find out tonight, since I'm alone in this arena again. I should be moving faster and further away. It's just the Careers, Cade, the District 9 boy and me. 6 left. If none have died yet. The Careers will definitely be coming after me pretty soon. How has the District 9 boy held out for so long after his spear wound? When I last saw him, he was weak and lying on the ground, but he could manage enough to cripple the District 1 girl. I'll be expecting them to attack at any moment, jump out from behind a tree or spear me from the back or something. I pull my pack tightly on, heavy from the bottles of water, and take flight soundlessly through the damp and dark forest.

My run slows to a walk some time after when my cuts begin to open again from the exertion. I sit down and apply the salve straight away without washing the wounds first, but when I dab the first bit on, it stings badly and I bite my lip to keep from screaming from the pain. Setting the tub of medicine down, I grit my teeth and spare a couple of drops to wash them, and then do the medicine again. The feeling is immense relief, both from the healing power of the medicine and that the pain didn't return. When I've treated my cuts, I get up and continue my walk. No more running, not for now. Let those cuts heal up first.

I stop after a few hours to have a light tea break of mint leaves, which I've been trying to ration throughout my run since I'll probably never return to the bush again. I have no idea where I'm headed; I just know I'm going in the opposite direction of the area of the fight. How big is this arena anyway? I didn't travel for long, but it must stop somewhere, right? All of a sudden I am overwhelmed by the feeling to see what's at the end of the arena, and it drives me on all the more. I don't know what I'm expecting to see there anyway. A place for refuge, maybe. Or maybe it's to get as far from the Careers as I can. I'm sure all this walking will be futile when I'm driven out of my comfort zone to meet _them_ eventually, but I'm willing to do it. Maybe not all the way to the end, but at least somewhere where I can be safe. Where they can't pursue me.

I recognise not one feature of the areas I step into, and I'm slightly worried that I won't be able to find my way back, but I remind myself to just run away from whatever's coming. Away. Maybe if it were the Careers I would hide and ambush them, but then I'm referring to something more _natural_, like fire, that black mist, whatever the Gamemakers have thrown in here. The bloodthirsty want to kill is definitely not natural.

After a couple of hours, my legs give way and I sit against a tree, chewing a mint leaf and occasionally sipping water. No one's here, that's good. The Careers and the District 9 boy wouldn't have travelled far, and as for Cade, if he's still lingering around the area of the black mist, he should be nowhere near here. I remember travelling in the opposite direction of the mountain. The arena can't be that big, and even with my injuries, I must be near the end now. I wonder what's at the end. A force field? Probably. Is it dangerous? It didn't look like it was from the tape of Haymitch's Games, but I'm not sure. It could well be, and I look around, not sure what exactly I'm trying to spot. What does a force field look like anyway?

It's easy to see the trampled path of grass my body has left behind. I should try covering my tracks from now on. We never had to do this in Seven so I take some time to figure out how to go about this. What's on the ground? Mud. And there's some snow on the trees. I dig around in my pack for the plastic sheet. It's a little big, but it will do if I fold it in quarters. Makes the material thicker as well. I walk around collecting soft mud and shaking snow off the leaves on the trees, and at the same time find a bush of berries growing out of nowhere. Trust the Gamemakers to put _berries_ in the middle of all this snow. I gather some, but almost immediately flashback to training those weeks ago. Aren't these the poisonous type? I break them open to be sure, and the flesh is bright red. They always have this type in each forest arena, and I can almost hear the audience chanting "Eat it! Eat it!" and betting on my ignorance and death. Such fools. Well, since I know what they are, no way am I going to eat these. But I mash them up with a rock anyway and add them to my mix of mud and snow. Helps to add to the total amount. I just have to be extra careful to wash my hands when eating later, and rinse this plastic out.

I continue my journey, adding the mixture and camouflaging it into the original ground with my foot. The mud is rather dry around here, and I'm glad I've got plenty of wet mud earlier on. The travelling is slower like this, but it's safer. The landscape gradually changes as I go. The snow disappears and the miles of cedar and pine are replaced with tropical trees. I recognise some from home as well. Then the mud transforms into short, dry grass and there's no need to cover my tracks any more. I bundle the plastic up and tie it with some rope so it won't spill out, and place it back in my pack. Then I slow down and eventually stop, finding a good tree to climb. I'm just thinking I'm settled well enough here when I catch sight of some movement in the shrubs. Moving towards my tree. I freeze immediately when it comes into full view, taking in the gleaming eyes sparkling in the rays of sun that fall on it, the muted shine of its unnatural coat, the gnawed claws outstretched towards me. As it nears my tree, the air around it seems to speak of only one thing - death.


	15. Chapter 15: Pain

**A/N: This update is really late, partly because I couldn't get on the computer for quite a while. Apologies for keeping you waiting with a cliffhanger. I was also writing another to-be-posted story, hopefully coming out in two weeks' time.  
Sorry for not posting a double update last chapter, but this one will be doubly long, so it counts! :)**

**Disclaimer: Why would I own the Hunger Games?**

The creature was originally on the ground, but now it extends its sharp claws and sinks them into the hard bark of the tree with no effort at all. It's almost like watching someone dig their fingers into soft mud. As it climbs up, I recognise the rabbit-like features of it. The rabbit-mutt that attacked me that day. This might be the same one, or the Gamemakers may have bred more to unleash on me. From the looks of it, it doesn't have a good intention. What kind of mutt even has a good intention?

I'm hoping its claws will get stuck by how deep it's sunk them into the tree, but it starts to climb as soon as it gets a good grip. And it's _fast._I'm settled a good thirty metres up in this tall tree, yet it's halfway up in just a matter of seconds. I'm frozen on my branch, all my belongings inside my packs, which are strapped on my back. I couldn't get a knife out in time. The only way to escape for now is to climb up and out of this tree.

There's not much left of the tree to climb and I get my foot on a branch higher up when the creature reaches just below my branch, hissing quietly. I can hear it now as it lunges for my other dangling foot, and I swipe my leg out of its reach and onto a neighbouring tree just in time. I think I can get to that tree, if this thing does not leap over as well. Slowly, I untangle myself from the branches of the tree and grab hold of the one I've got my foot on. The mutt is climbing even higher up the tree, no longer pursuing me, which makes me cock my head in surprise. What? What is it doing? But its true intentions are made clear to me as soon as it teeters over the edge of a branch directly above me, teeth bared and hissing. The points of its claws stare me directly in the face threateningly. My eyes widen and I scramble onto the other tree frantically. Help. This is not going to happen. That mutt is not going to jump onto me.

In time. I'm just in time when it launches itself straight down and catapults like a rock down the tree. It doesn't fall tremendously fast so I can jerk my body out in time and catch a glimpse of it as it drops. It is frozen in the same position all the way down, four limbs stretched downwards, head looking down, claws retracted so the points look seemingly harmless. I peer down as it lands with a thud on the ground, body flat and twitching a little. I'm hoping it's dead when it suddenly springs to life, slithering towards me, sinking its claws into the current tree I'm in. In a moment of terror, I precariously jump into the next tree, gripping the first branch I come into contact with tightly. The packs slam against my back, but I don't have time to worry about them now. I'm distracted by another rustle in the brush behind me. Out comes another mutt. Yes, it's another one. The previous one is climbing the tree I left at a breaknecking speed. This one sticks its claws into the tree I'm in right now and crawls up terribly fast. I leap over to the next tree again, immense terror and fear shrouding my senses. I keep scaling the branches, looking back once every tree to see if they're following me. They aren't. But when I look upwards, fear gets the better of me. They are _both_ right above me, moving as fast as me, though from the looks of it, they could go even faster.

They must have noticed I've stopped to look at them, because the hissing resumes again, only it's louder and more monotonous this time. One poises its body to plummet down, and I jump out in time. Then the other follows suit. Fortunately there're only two of them...as for now. They land on the ground and recover almost instantly. But just then, I think one of them hears something, because it slithers with the same surprising speed as climbing away from me into the forest. However, it seems to disappear behind the brush before there's a sharp zapping sound that makes me jump and its small body is flung, black and smoking, back into the forest and lands at the foot of my tree. Strange.

I find some small berries growing on the tree and pick a handful. They're hard and dry, and just enough for throwing at the area where the mutt ran into. I throw one first and sure enough, at some point in space there's a zapping sound and it flies back towards me. It scrapes past my cheek and I can almost feel the heat radiating out from it. There's a soft patter a distance behind as the berry lands on the grass. It's probably that force field that they use to conceal the edges of the arena. So I've really reached the end of it. Maybe they didn't put snow here because it would just melt off from the force field. I take another look at the smoking, burnt body lying on the grass and shudder. That's one strong force field.

A deep pain shooting into my elbow shakes me back into reality and I look down, searching for the source of pain, only to find the other mutt right beside me, with the claws of one limb deep in my lower arm. This sends me into a frenzy and I punch it with my other free hand, targeting every weak spot I can pinpoint in my frantic state. The head, the eyes, the neck, the stomach. The fur feels fake and too coarse against my skin. The pain is driving me crazy and I manage to get it off my arm, tearing my skin open and exposing the flesh below. Once I'm freed, I flee through the trees faster than I've ever gone. Step up on that branch. Grab that vine above. My mind has to instruct me on exactly what to do otherwise my body parts will not cooperate with each other. But I stop after ten or so trees and look around my tree for the mutt. Up, to the side, behind, down. But it's nowhere to be seen. Warily, I tentatively find a foothold in the previous tree, hauling my body up to search for the mutt. It's still where I fought it off. Lying on its back. I think I can still see the slowing throb of its chest, but other than that it's immobile. My tensed shoulders relax and I dare to let out a sigh. I'm alive. I've escaped the mutt. I'm safe. I go a couple more trees, careful to throw a berry ahead to avoid the force field, before stuffing the excess berries into my pocket when I've found a wide enough branch to sit on. Then I take a deep breath and examine my arm.

The claw marks make me sick to my stomach. Apart from that, the blood oozing out is already nauseating enough. Images of it come to my mind, painted on my knife, staining the grass, trickling out from my allies and enemies. I try my best to shut the thoughts out of my mind as I wash my wound and apply salve to it. But there's something wrong even after I've treated the wound. The blood is all washed off, making the wound clearer. It's deep and inside is still leaking blood, but there are green and purple streaks around the surface and on the flesh inside as well. It looks like a much thinner version of veins, only I know it isn't my veins. It's poison.

I get my first-aid kit out and check through all the medicine and bandages. I should wrap it up, but I'm afraid that some inflammation may happen under the cloths and I won't know until it's too late. There's actually quite a good supply in the first-aid kit, given that this is the Hunger Games. There's cream for burns, cloths for bandages, pills and some clear medicine in a tinted bottle labelled "Fever" which I'm guessing is meant to be consumed and not applied. The pills aren't marked, unfortunately. Does the Capitol really expect us, who are used to plants as our medicine, to be able to identify these strange yellow pills? Or maybe this is for their entertainment as well. I can just imagine those _aliens_ sitting on the edge of their plush chairs, leaning forward in their seats and laughing their heads off at the weakling who is puzzling over some medicine pills. It makes me all the more mad at them.

I opt for the green salve I got from my sponsors, and gently apply some all over and inside the wound. It helps to stem the pain, and I wait for a while before checking again to see if the streaks of poison are gone, but they're still there, clear as ever. I try again with the burn cream as well, but the results are still the same. Nothing changes at all, even after a few hours of treating the wound. That's when I realise that the poison is already in my blood. There's nothing I can do to get it out. It will take its effect sometime soon, and when that time comes I will have no way of helping myself.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by uneventful. I stay in my tree all the time, constantly checking the wound, but the poison has spread even more. Eventually I give up and look around, eager to spot some food or a source of water. I'll need renewed strength for the days to come, especially for my wound, not to forget my damaged back from falling on the ground by the lake a few days ago. As I try to fit my body to the narrow crook of the branch, a jolt of pain goes up my spine, and I end up leaning my side against the upward crook instead of my back.

The anthem plays once again, but there are no deaths. I debate sleeping in my current sitting position, but in the end clamber down the wide trunk, watching out for signs of mutts, as I will probably fall off the tree in my injured state. As I go down, it is completely silent, and the night seems haunting. I should stay up in case anyone approaches in their night-hunting trip, but I doubt the Careers will make it this far yet. I should be safe...I hope.

I nestle myself in the bed of leaves on the ground and curl up in my jacket, my packs sitting by a tree. I still have the plastic sheet with the mud and poisonous berry mix, and I hope it hasn't spilled yet. I didn't put anything else in that pack anyway, so it should be safe. At least I hope it is. The last thing I would want is to die of my own recklessness when I could clearly win. That thought pulls me to a halt mentally. Could I win? I had always thought I could, but ever since the Games started and I saw my competition, I've begun to doubt my confident self. I'm already wounded all over and once this poison reaches some vital organ, I will be dead. Maybe not immediately. Maybe the Gamemakers want me to suffer and will let me die a slow, painful death. In that case, I'll rather kill myself first. But while I'm still considerably well, I'll keep going. I have to do this for Soraya. My confidence returns again, and I keep whispering _I can do this_ until sleep overtakes me.

* * *

I'm aware of a sharp, searing pain in my arm. Vaguely, as if it's fading in and out, there but not there. At some point in time it's so slight that it is almost non-existent, only to be relieved by another sudden excruciating bout of pain. It slowly diminishes after a while, so gradual that I am not fully aware that it has gone away. Then it returns, only much stronger and making me sit bolt upright, gasping. I immediately take a look at my lower left arm, where I roughly remembered where the pain was coming from, taking a deep breath and steeling myself for the worst.

The claw marks are still visible, though faded, and the gash has closed somewhat. But the poison has crawled through my veins to my wrist and upper arm. The skin which is streaked with the poison is the one that bears the pain. I try lifting my arm and moving it about, hoping it still feels the same as usual, but the result is the opposite, to the extent that it feels as if someone has amputated my arm off and replaced it with another from a foreign body. And more than ever, it hurts so badly. I apply a layer of each type of medicine I have over the gash and around the infected areas, hoping this will help stall the poison from leaking even more. It probably won't do a thing to my arm, but there's no harm trying.

Breakfast is a simple sip of water and two crackers. I manage to spare a couple of mint leaves to chew on, somehow knowing I won't be spending much longer in the arena. It's been many days without deaths, and though I put up a good fight with the Careers a few days ago, I have a feeling the Gamemakers will do something soon. I better be ready and on the move, as best as I can with all the injuries and lack of supplies.

I'm about to get moving when I remember the small berries stashed in my pocket. My security warning in case I got too near the force field. I dig them out and clutch them in my left hand, which still seems to be operating fine as long as I don't move it much, and take one knife in the other. I move along the force field from there, throwing berries as a precaution, moving in the direction my guts tell me to head towards. I manage to collect some edible berries as well here and there. Half the time, I keep thinking about the rest of the tributes and anything associated with them or involving them. But most of all, my mind keeps wandering back from any digressions to Cade. Anything that happened with him. The part of my strategy that he supposedly eavesdropped on, and why he spared me the times we met in the arena. He didn't seem to care about me much in the Capitol, but the Games is another story. I honestly hadn't expected him to act the way he did, and I'm still trying to figure out his real intentions. If he wanted to win over my trust and later ambush me, well, mission accomplished. He would want to return to Seven anyway, and only one can win this.

I jump violently as a cannon sounds, and the only question forming at my lips is _who_. Not Cade or the District 9 boy, please. Let it be one of the Careers. I would never forgive myself if one of them died, because it would be my fault, after all they'd helped me with and my failure to even thank them for it.

The biting wind seems to return, or maybe that is just my imagination. But wind or no wind, the intangible words reiterated are the same. _Johanna, you have failed_.

* * *

I find myself in open grass a couple of hours later. The sun says it's noon, and I have no idea how I got here. The berries I throw fall into open space, so I think I've wandered somewhere further from the force field. Good. I'm not going to get singed by that thing like the mutt. The stupid mutt. Stupid Games. Stupid Capitol. This cruel sport is the reason why I have lost my former self and my friend as well. Something chokes up in my throat as my defiant thoughts segue into thoughts of Soraya. Emotions and tears struggle to surface, but I force them back down. Now is not the time for this. I can't afford to think of Soraya now. It will only make me feel worse than I already do.

Reality clicks back into place. I quickly take refuge in the shade of a leafy tree whose name I do not know, squatting in defense position with my knife at the ready, but resort to sitting down after a short while when my legs get tired. I keep on the lookout for the slightest sound of another being, but even handling the knife now feels weird and awkward. When I'm certain there's no one here, I distance myself about five metres from the tree and try to throw my knife at it, but after a couple of throws I can't aim straight any more. My hands are shaking and the humid air is just making it worse. I crawl back to the shade and curl my fingers into a tight fist, trying to still my quivering hands but it doesn't work. My arms feel so strained and I'm certain I'm next to dead already. A check on the poison shows that it has spread even more, snaking up my shoulder and visible in the creases in my palms, but some of it must have spread long ago already, since my other arm is shaking as well and there's a painful throbbing in my chest. All of a sudden, I feel afraid. Not just plain afraid. Afraid that all my efforts will be futile, that I am just going to die here, shallow and forgotten. I have to keep going no matter what. It's the only way to shun whatever is thrown at me and stay true to myself. It seems like the real challenge of the Games is to hold on to your true self and not let the Games alter you in any way. I've seen the victors, like drunk Haymitch and the morphling addicts from Six, those who have given up and died along with the other tributes, a vacant, unfeeling being taking their place. I will not follow in their footsteps. I am, and will always be, the girl from Seven. Not a cold-blooded killer or a drunkard.

Evening comes soon enough and I shiver, even with my jacket on. The temperature has got colder, if that's even possible. I snuggle in between two large roots of the tree and tuck my knees up, trying to conserve body heat. Then the sky goes completely dark and I look up as the anthem begins to play and the projection appears, casting an eerie glow above, illuminating the trees. The Capitol seal comes up first, and I have no time to wish anything before the face of the dead tribute appears in the sky. The boy from 2. I shudder as I remember how I cut him repeatedly and how he told me I would regret sparing his life. Well, he's dead now. Do I regret not killing him on the spot? I don't know. Nothing is clear any more.

That leaves five of us, two from District Seven. It's obvious that Cade's the stronger one here, and I'll be expected dead soon. But of course I'll be dead - I've got this poison leaking into my bloodstream and making me unable to fight. It's just a matter of time before it's my turn to show up in that ghastly dark sky. Really, if I encounter anyone now, they'll easily finish me off within seconds. They could even snatch my knife away and stab me with it, for all the protection it provides. But as much as I've already given up, my unwilling mind pushes me to list out the remaining tributes. Two Careers, one crippled, the other badly injured. The boy from 9 with the seemingly fatal spear wound that has somehow not taken him yet. Cade, whose current status is unknown to me, but if it was him who killed the boy from 2, he's still probably out there unharmed. And there's me, poison flowing in my blood, taking effect on my system, ready for my imminent death. I don't know what to make of all this.

With these thoughts I unknowingly drift off into a restless sleep.

* * *

Brightness. Nothing but brightness. Everything swirls around, but I can't be sure if it really does because my surroundings are all one colour. Bright. It is not even a colour. Just bright. All of a sudden I start moving, not of my own will, and the one thing that is not bright stands out like the moon against the night sky. It is a wall. And I am moving towards it.


	16. Chapter 16: Health Sustained

**A/N: Short chapter, but I just felt I had to end it there. So sorry for the inconsistent updates, I have been quite busy with other stuff. Hope you enjoy Chapter 16.  
P.S. If you noticed, this story has a new summary! :)  
**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the Hunger Games, you would be seeing updates every minute.**

I squeeze my eyes shut just as I crash into the wall. But something is wrong. There is no pain. I have passed_ through_ the wall. I can see it behind me, getting further and further every second. What is this speed that I am travelling at? I look ahead again, not knowing what to expect, and the sudden appearance of the dreaded creature makes me scream.

* * *

Chills are running up and down my infected arm. The visible part of the poison has spread further, but I'm not concerned about that any more. I'm just relieved that the mutt is nowhere to be seen and I'm back in the arena, in the shelter of my tree. There is no wall that I passed through. When I have gotten over the initial shock and relief, the usual questions return. When did I awake? How long has it been, and what has happened since? But it doesn't seem like much has happened, because the area here is undisturbed and serene. I can only wish that it will remain the same.

Movement in the grass makes me whip my head around, but there's only a rabbit. For a moment, I imagine it is the rabbit-mutt, come back to finish me off, and I nearly bolt into the forest, but the rabbit does not have the same glistening eyes as the mutt. It's just a rabbit. My knife lands on the grass beside the rabbit, frustrating me. I still can't throw properly. I thought sleep would help, but evidently it has not. Meanwhile, the rabbit has shifted its position a little, but otherwise it just sits there calmly, side facing me, like a target waiting for me to hit it. Must be some Gamemaker hypnotic trance, because although in Seven we did not come across rabbits that often, I know for a fact that rabbits in the wild do not behave like this. Well, so be it, at least I have a guaranteed meal in front of me. I try throwing the other two knives and the second sinks a little into the flesh while the third misses completely, quavering throughout its entire flight into the grass. I groan, stand up as best as I can, and scout for my knives. The rabbit hops to the side as I approach, looking at me, suddenly making its long-anticipated escape into the forest.

"Thanks a lot," I mutter. I do have some berries to finish up though. I was just looking forward to some rabbit meat, but it doesn't seem likely that I'll be having it now. After I make do with what I have for breakfast and tidy up my packs, I'm on the move again. I feel better. If I can exclude the poison and the pain in my back, I'm almost fully rejuvenated, but the problem is that the poison and the pain is definitely not something to count out. As I walk, the pain grinds into my nerves, but I continue my walk. The going is slow, but I just walk, and after about an hour I enter a section of the arena that I have not visited before. The never-ending grass fades into pine needles and leaves, and the occasional tree multiplies into many. A shimmering wall of water so thin and delicate flows so steadily down a waterfall that if you had not stopped to catch the almost-invisible motion, it could have easily been passed off as a wall of glass. I find a rocky terrain leading up to the waterfall that looks climbable enough and scuttle on it, grabbing hold of every protruding shard nearby. For some reason, I just _have_ to go to that waterfall. It's almost as if an invisible thread is tugging at me, enticing me to walk through that waterfall, feel the cool sheet of water breaking upon contact with my damaged skin.

I get there soon enough. Unfortunately, the arena has not decided that I have sustained enough injuries, and my journey on the rocks proves to be a literally painful one. But the feeling is not the same as before. I feel refreshed. Once I have crossed over to the very foot of the waterfall, I know that despite all the pain and effort I took to get there, it was the right choice. A small stream of water sprinkles on me from a small crack in the rocks. I set my packs down and wash the blood and dirt off my limbs, not caring about the chill-to-come from my soaked clothes. But I do zip up my jacket, seeing that since it's waterproof, it will shield at least my shirt. Then I have my first bath in more than a week.

All of a sudden, Soraya's words about her wet jacket come back, replaying over and over in my mind. "_My jacket...it was...them..._" And her reluctance to tell me why it was wet, her denial about it. Although I have no confirmation from her to say if my guess is right or wrong, something tells me that she was talking about this waterfall. It's just something magical about this that I can't explain. A demanding lure, drawing all the world's secrets out. I don't understand why she had to deny that her jacket was wet, but maybe it just brought up bad memories. Maybe she just didn't want to relieve whatever had happened. I pack up my stuff, and just as I'm about to go, I spot a dried blood smear on the ground. As if it was unintentionally smudged by someone's boot. Smiling, I crawl back over the rocks to the trees and drop on the ground wearily. I feel a lot better in days. Or maybe that is only because all my unanswered questions have finally been resolved and..."I can die at peace."

What? What did I just say? What was meant to be a thought unintentionally came out as a murmur. I hope the cameras did not pick that up, though anyway I _am_ going to die, aren't I, I have that poison hindering my abilities and weakening my senses. I would just be stating the truth even if that line was broadcast on live television. I look down at my arm where the poison still dwells, but is there something wrong? Some of it has disappeared. _Disappeared_. The very thing I thought was definitely impossible. This brings me a new hope and I look up to the "sky", positive that I'm not scowling now. How could I scowl, when I have discovered what will save my life? For the first time in possibly my life, the tensed muscles in my face relax and I actually smile of my own will. Then the parachute lands.

* * *

I set up camp near the waterfall, in the shelter of the leafy trees. Then I rearrange my belongings and take some time to examine the sponsor gift, a tin of unknown food, but it is sweet and filling. Licking the last bit of my day's ration off my fingers, I adjust my position so my back won't hurt and listen to the anthem begin to play. There are no deaths, as I expected, but I still look up in the hope of one less tribute pitted against me. None. The sky shows nothing except for the detestable Capitol seal hung high up, glowing faintly, just another reminder that I am still in the Games, still susceptible to the growing threats in this large death dome. All the blissfulness I felt under the waterfall has disappeared and I can actually feel the darkness creeping up on me.

Today, if you can even call it a day, seems to have passed faster than before, but again, I am in the Games and the Gamemakers probably have some sort of light device to adjust the brightness in the arena. They probably can control when the anthem plays and the projection is shown too. And they can control all of us. I roll the sleeve of my jacket slightly up and in the fading light, I can make out the hard lump of my tracker embedded in my arm. This gets me thinking although my exhausted mind protests. What would happen if a tribute dug their tracker out? Could they even? Probably not, with all the cameras around. I rub at the swelled area around the tracker. It must hurt a lot if one were to try to dig it out, but I guess it wouldn't matter if you were already bashed up and as good as dead. I don't think anyone has actually dug it out before. Either that or they were killed instantly and the part cut out before it was shown on television. Maybe they did it in the night, when I was not watching, and the morning recap was cut out. Maybe...

My thoughts blur and fade in and out, swallowing up the last of my coherence.

I grunt as I pull myself up to a sitting position. My back is still sore from my fall those days ago, but fortunately my arm has healed somewhat. The poison is still there though, but I can function normally now. I practice throwing my knives over and over until I'm positive I'm back to normal again. I decide not to move from here. I have food and water anyway, and what is there to move out for unless I'm being hunted? Maybe I am, now, in some foreign part of the arena, bloodthirsty tributes are out seeking me. They must be wanting someone from Seven to die, since there are still two of us left. I shove the thoughts out of my mind. Only until that time will I allow myself to think of my death. Not now.

The crunch of boots on the leaf litter startles me. No, startle is an understatement. In that moment I am engulfed by extreme fear, winding its way up and plaguing my mind. I am going to die. I am allowed to think about it now, and with that my previous thoughts rush back into focus like water flowing through a broken dam._ They want someone from Seven to die. And that someone is me._

My body gets up of its own accord, my arms throwing my packs on my back. I stagger haphazardly into the forest, brain frozen with terror but limbs functioning. I think I hear voices but I am unable to make sense of them. The footsteps draw closer until I feel like my heart has stopped beating there and then. Images flash around, but nothing registers except the fact that I am going to die. With one last motion, I manage to direct my knife at the tribute.

**A/N: That must have been terrible. I was really tired when I wrote this and I did not edit the last part...sorry!**


	17. Chapter 17: Blood on my hands

**A/N: Thanks Ecargnotrom, ArtemisKey, and all other reviewers!  
This chapter is r****ather short, but it seemed appropriate to end it here.****  
I have FINALLY finished my exams! No more long breaks in writing! To celebrate...here is...drumroll...the death of somebody! (obviously.)****Well, that and something else...a double update!**

**Disclaimer: I would have had way more reviews and story views if I owned the Hunger Games, unless I am undercover, but I assure you I do not own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

The tribute gives a sharp cry of pain, but it does not reach the core of my heart. I do not feel anything for the tribute at all, instead stumbling over to yank my knife out and finally slumping on the ground after stabbing the person again. Relieved that the nightmare is over, I shakily stand up and take a look at my victim, instantly regretting it. But this time it is not the blood that has done it.

What have I done? As my gaze sweeps over the fading light in the tribute's eyes, a wave of shock and guilt floods through me. _I am so sorry_, my brain wants to say. But somehow the words never come out. The look of pain and disbelief is evident on his face, driving the last of the heartlessness out of me and making me want all the more to apologise, especially since I owe him so much. I open my mouth to say something, but my throat feels like it is frozen and nothing comes out. I hope he can see the apology I want to express and know that it was not intentional, that it was all an accident. As I steel myself and look right into his eyes, he mouths my name. Maybe he's really saying it, but it's inaudible. My gaze passes by the stab marks I made in my hassled state. Then the blood. And finally I stare into the sorrowful and shocked eyes, holding any amount of surprise and anguish.

I grab my packs and leave, never turning back even when the cannon fires.

* * *

When I calm down enough to stop and rest, I begin to wonder. Did what I feared really happen? I slowly pick myself up and the blood on my knife confirms it. I have killed the one I thought I would be unable to kill. I have failed yet again, even if it was not my intention to kill him. But as I think about this, part of me can't help but wonder if it really wasn't an accident. I left him there to die, didn't I, even if I wasn't in my right mind.

I can only imagine what Blight and Velda are thinking about me now. They would have seen the entire action unfold. In fact, the whole district would have. Cade shouldn't have been the one to die. I should have. I have wronged so many, taken more than I should, and yet returned so little. Granted, Cade has had his fair share of kills as well, but he never killed me when he had the chance to. And I have. True, I didn't even know it was him. But in my head, a voice begs to differ. _"You saw him before you acted. And you were always doubting his motives. Maybe you really wanted to kill him."_

* * *

Night is prolonged to forever. The sun slips away rapidly, never seeming to cast the long-awaited glimmer of light upon the dark sky. The temperature dips way below ten degrees as well, making me shiver in my jacket. As the anthem plays, I lower my eyes to the dark ground, never willing to look up. But again my body betrays me.

The fading projection in the sky is the last I ever see of him.

Again the wind seems to whip forcefully around me, returning with words of hatred and malice, reminding me of all that I've done to everyone around me. My eyes are dry, however, just another testimony of my heartlessness. I arrive at the conclusion that things can't get worse, being this way already, but my thoughts are proved wrong when the parachute lands.

It's not just a parachute. It's an army of them.

I feel sick to my stomach all of a sudden. The audience actually _enjoyed_ it, again making me question their sanity. They liked it. They liked watching me transform into a cold-hearted monster. They liked watching Cade die.

* * *

When morning finally comes, I sit on the ground, motionless, in a stupor, immersed in my own thoughts. Nothing can shake me. I will not move, no matter what the Gamemakers decide to do. I will remain here forever. Even when I die. No one can make me budge an inch from my position.

Of course, my resolve is immediately broken when the footsteps draw near.


	18. Chapter 18: Another one down

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

Heart thudding, I crash through the trees as I flee in terror. They're back to get me, and this time they will win for sure. But then a memory surfaces in my muddled mind, of the axe the District 4 boy had. And I know I must get it.

I stop and scramble up a tree.

It takes them a while to catch up, counting that they didn't even know I was here in the first place. It was probably only when I ran that they realised I was here, but what else is there to do? I could not hope to catch them by surprise by creeping up on them; I would be dead for sure.

To my surprise, there is only the District 4 boy, armed even more than last time. Then I remember that the District 1 girl is injured, probably unable to walk. She must be back at camp. The boy looks up and the very sight of the axe makes me yearn for it badly. I'm higher up. I could pick him off with my knife, if only I could get his attention off me. Unfortunately, his eyes are fixated on me and I have no hope of doing this. He circles the tree like a dog waiting for its prey, calculating the exact moment to pounce. The action reminds me of the mutts.

I decide to travel through the trees. The boy would follow anyway, and I'm sure he would not let me go just like that. A closer look at him reveals the clotting wounds from our last fight, and I know I am still recovering as well. It will only make the inevitable battle tougher, but it is a sacrifice I have to make if I want to get out of this alive. Forcing all other thoughts out of my mind, I command my limbs to stretch out accordingly towards the next tree like I did with the mutts, moving as fast as I can. My back hurts as I travel, but I have to bear with it.

The boy below is looking menacingly up at me, holding his axe in a pose ready to attack at any time. He is anticipating my every move, watching closely. I can't read his mind, but to play it safe I climb a few more branches higher up the tree. Then I move as fast as I can, managing a reasonable walking pace. The boy follows and the look in his eyes is a strange mixture of anger, determination and amusement. I swallow hard, and wonder. Does he know I killed my own district partner? He would have easily eliminated his ally, leaving the most probable killer to be me, since the boy from 9 could barely walk the last time I saw him. If so, what did he think of it? Maybe he didn't even bother to think about it, just took it as one less opponent.

It strikes me that I am doing the same.

My mind wanders back to the arena and my eyes peruse the ground for the boy before I realise he is making his way up my tree. Startled, I keep going to the next tree, looking for some way out. I can't keep jumping trees forever. Then my gaze lights on bunches of large, hard berries growing on a tree further away, resembling the ones I used to identify the force field with, except much bigger. For a moment I consider leading the boy into the force field, but I remember that I left the edge of the arena quite a few kilometres away. That leaves the berries as my best option that I can think of now. My mother's voice rings in my head as I decide to go for the berries. _Even something small, when dropped from very high up, can cause serious damage._

Mind set on the goal ahead of me, I grasp branches and step on branch forks until I reach the tree. A glance back shows the boy running towards my current tree on the ground far below and with that, I turn my head back to a bunch of berries just above my head, giving the thin stalk a sharp jerk to free it from the rest of the tree. The leaves rustle a little but I don't mind. What is there to hide from the rest of the tributes now?

The berries come off in my hand and I don't think twice before picking them off one by one and hurling them down on the boy,who is just reaching my tree.

He looks surprised at first, then tries to run out of the zone, but I pelt berries at him until there are no more in my hand. When I have run out, I swiftly climb down the tree, not wanting to give him any time to recover. Stabbing him is easy after that although I do get cut by the axe when he tries to fight back. After some slashing, he slumps to the ground and I don't hesitate before ripping the axe from his limp grip and lodging it in his head.

* * *

I keep walking, not in any hurry to get anywhere. I finally have an axe! I pocket my knife, knowing it could come in handy in case of dire situations, but for now I am more than content with an axe. As I walk I eat some of the remaining food in my pack, knowing the Games will be over very soon. There are just three of us left. The Gamemakers will be sure to drive us together soon if nothing happens, and then will the girl from 1 die if she is really paralysed.

The sky turns dark faster today. I'm sure the Gamemakers are toying around with their controls, probably wanting to end the days as soon as possible. I hope it does. I can't stand being in their dome as a pawn forever. If I close my eyes, I can still see the pained faces of the dying tributes burned into my mind forever. I know they will never really leave.

As the anthem plays in the sky, I do not look up though I know the boy from 4 is shown there. Now I wonder what his ally is thinking.

* * *

When I wake, the forest seems relatively undisturbed. Cautiously, I get up and look around. Enough of aimless wandering in here. This time, I will be hunting for victims. I grab my axe and get all my gear in place before setting foot out. I have absolutely no idea where to look, but I can spot the temperate forest I first landed myself in at the start of the Games not too far away. That would be somewhere to look, but it's just a question of whether I can walk in there without being forced to relieve all the terrible memories of my allies and enemies dying. Finally, I steel myself and head there.

The forest is so silent today. There seems to be no insets dwelling in it now. Something seems a bit off, but I can't place my finger on it. Maybe it's just due to the lack of sound I'm so accustomed to hearing. Not surprising, though, since it is the Games and the Gamemakers are bound to be messing around with things now. Again I am reminded that all this is a reality show, that we are battling for people's entertainment. The thought makes me sick to my stomach.

I stop here and there for a rest or a drink of water. My body is still in its bad condition but it has improved significantly since those days ago. The poison still remains though, but the effect is minimal. I hope it remains like this.

After about a kilometre of walking, I notice the other thing that adds to the strangeness of the forest today. There are absolutely no animals and birds. The forest seems completely drained of life, except for the trees around. For a vast stretch of forest, there is no movement. Even the leaves of the trees are not moving. This unnatural behaviour of trees makes me highly suspicious. What could the Gamemakers hope to achieve with all this? Two dead tributes? Well, all the best for _that_. The others can barely even move; it will take me years to get to them.

Some smoke in the distance catches my attention easily. It is the only thing that _moves_ in this dreary forest, not a frozen mirror of supposed life. It perks the forest up quite a bit, attracting my attention, and it takes a while for the facts to click.

Smoke is produced from a fire.

A fire means a tribute is there.

My next kill.


	19. Chapter 19: The Finale

**A/N: This is not the end of the story although the chapter title says so. :) There's still a few more to go...**  
**Thanks for reviewing again! I really appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

My legs take me towards the fire, strengthened by the thought of one less competitor. I will win this. The stationary trees flash by as I run, no more than flimsy backdrops to hinder my way. I push them aside forcefully as I pass with only one thought circling in my mind - kill the tribute.

* * *

The girl from 1 looks up in horror as she sees me before her. Her eyes no doubt retain a little of her past arrogance, but she is defenceless against me, tethered to the ground with a spear that is quite useless to her in her position. And I have the element of surprise.

My axe lands itself in her head.

The cannon sounds yet again and I pull my weapon out slowly. I have all the time I want. The sticky blood the blade is coated in brings back everything I have experienced in the arena, but I shove everything out of my mind as I go through the girl's supplies, taking anything of use to me and discarding some of my useless belongings in the process. I won't bother putting out her fire. In fact, I sit by and watch as the hovercraft picks up her body. The twenty-second one down. One left. I tick district by district off my fingers until I am left with the boy from 9. The one who saved my life during the encounter with the Careers, the one who made the girl from 1 so easy to kill. I owe him, yes. But this is the Hunger Games, and I haven't been reliable at paying debts. Everyone I know or have killed comes to mind and a wave of remorse washes over me, but it is gone as fast as it came. I have come so far now and I better return home. All this will not be in vain.

I get up after an hour to resume my hunt, although something genuine in me yells out for me to stop, since the boy did save my life, so I shouldn't be taking his. But what if he takes mine? What if all that was just pretence and a way to win over my trust, then kill me later?

I pick my axe up with new resolve.

* * *

The trees are just the same wherever I go. Who knows how large this arena is? I'm guessing a few kilometres wide. The Gamemakers should be sending something to drive us together then, since I can't exactly march kilometres to find the boy.

My suspicions are proved right as I catch sight of a large flock of birds in the distance flying right towards me. And they don't look that harmless either.

* * *

My packs slam against my back as I sprint away from the birds. As they near, I can hear their screeches along with a furious flapping of wings, stirring up every remnant of breeze left in the still-suspended plant life. They are incredibly fast. And there are too many of them for me to fight them off. I run wherever I can find clear space, for it seems that everywhere I turn, more birds speed towards me and I am forced to backtrack and change my direction. This goes on until the Cornucopia is in view, partially hidden by the mass of still trees obscuring the full view of what is ahead. Then I understand. The Gamemakers are driving both of us together for the final battle.

The birds seem to be all over by the hundreds, maybe thousands. There must be flocks of tens of them chasing me, and as I look to the right, it is easy to spot more pursuing the other tribute. The Gamemakers must want to finish this fast, but who knows? They might hold the imminent death for eternity. Torture the dying one of us for days to entertain themselves until the show grows stale.

I force my attention to my sole competitor. The boy from 9 is running, but not terribly fast. He still manages to get away from the birds though, or maybe it is because the Gamemakers want to see us draw blood ourselves. Strangely, when I get to the Cornucopia, the birds stop chasing me and I catch my breath. They flee into the forest, still screeching. I watch the boy from 9 escape the birds and they too vanish in the forest once he has touched the Cornucopia. Our eyes meet for a second and behind the exhaustion scrawled all over his face, there is a sense of uncertainty. _Now what?_ he seems to be saying. I know neither of us wants to kill each other. Or do we?

We stare at each other for a while. Then he speaks. "I think the birds are gone."

"Yes, they are," I reply, gripping my axe tighter. I could do it in one motion, I could. But would it be humane enough? Would it be right for me to take his life and save mine, valuing myself over him?

"What are we gonna do now?" As he speaks, I take in the details, the single not-too-full pack slung on both his shoulders, the ripped and bloodied jacket zipped up tightly, his slumped stance. I can tell he is still injured, but probably recovered slightly. He must have gotten a fair number of parachutes for surviving up to the last two, as I have. I wonder if he has killed anyone. He must have, but somehow I just can't imagine him delivering the death blow. He did cripple the girl from 1 though, so I guess he's just as lethal as I am now. I try and locate any weapons, but he does not seem to have any in reach. Maybe they are in his pack.

"I don't know, fight to the death?"

He smiles grimly. "After helping each other?"

I am wordless. He has spoken the very thought in my mind, something I have been pushing to the side every time I made a kill. Now I have to face it.

"Did you kill him?"

"Who?"

"Your district partner," he says casually.

I have no idea why he brings it up right at this point or how he knew it was probably me, but the thought forms a hard lump in my throat. "Yes."

He says nothing. The look in his eyes is unreadable as he tilts his head slightly and studies me. I push my axe further behind my back, feeling the suddenly-strange handle warm up under the heat of my hand. It feels as if it is calling me, anticipating my move. Should I? My fingers slide to the dried blood on the blade. He will be no different from the Careers. Just one move and it will all be over...

I take in our current situation. The arena is bright, the birds are gone, and there's just the two of us left. The Capitol is sure to be tuning in to our especially interesting conversation, finding the hidden meaning behind our words and sitting on the edge of their seats, anticipating the death blow. I check again. Yes, he has no weapons with him right now. But all this conversation may be a strategy to get me talking and snatch my axe when I'm not concentrating, then to finish me off. My grip on my weapon tightens even more. I am ready.

"They aren't going to let us stay here talking for too long, you know," the boy says after a while.

"Yes, they want blood and action," I reply. "So we better give it to them."

"It's a choice. You could give them that and get their riches, or die knowing that part of you is still the same as your old self. Or perhaps it's what you prefer."

I take some time to ponder over his words. He has entered the arena not expecting to win but to die, while I have always wanted my life, not thinking about my future. Now that he has phrased it this way, it makes me rethink my resolve to win. "So which have you chosen?"

"I can't say for sure. I go from one to the other and back again."

Again my axe seems to beckon me to make the move. "So do I."

The screeching of birds shocks us and I whip around wildly, seeking the source of the noise. There is no movement at all for a few seconds. Then those same birds re-emerge from the forest towards us, screeching wildly, come to end our lives, and in this split second I know what my choice is.

The birds disappear as soon as my axe flies towards the boy.

It only takes a second for the cannon to sound for the last time, and then I slump against the cold wall of the Cornucopia as the trumpets blare, only stirring my exhausted limbs up when the hovercraft arrives.

* * *

The first person I meet after the few days of medical treatment is Blight. Velda and my stylist join us a short while later. I greet them with apprehension, hoping no one will bring up Cade or Soraya or any of the people I killed, whether directly or indirectly. Fortunately, they don't. Instead they congratulate me one by one on my survival and Velda is practically brimming with delight that one of her tributes has won. She makes me feel sick, though she probably doesn't know it.

Blight looks happy enough, though there is a certain amount of sadness in his eyes. "Good job," he says without emotion, and I nod in reply. I know he is thinking about Cade and probably his own Games as well. I wonder if he felt the same way as me when he won, if our district felt happy for him or sad that his partner didn't make it. Someplace far away called District 7, people will either be grieving or rejoicing. I expect it to be a mix. But I will know the real truth when I return.

I step away from everyone when their attention is away from me. A memory seemingly distant is replaying in my head, making me question my actions. _It's a choice. You could give them that and get their riches, or die knowing that part of you is still the same as your old self. Or perhaps it's what you prefer._I have chosen, but is it the right choice? Which is better, really?

The thought hits me that no one really wins the Hunger Games.


End file.
